Prequel
by Drumboy100
Summary: Nancy moves with her father to his new wife's house in Bayport, Connecticut. Fortunately, Nancy quickly finds a very welcoming group of new friends and her first mystery.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: It is truly astounding how this story ended up bearing no resemblance to the story I'd thought I would be creating when I wrote this first chapter._

_Most of the characters in this story are 14 and 15. Sometimes they speak and behave maturely, sometimes they don't; they tackle some tough issues, which happens at a younger age these days; and they are caught between childhood and adulthood. And young adults who help law enforcement catch criminals at 17 and 18 years old probably grew up quickly._

_Therefore please note that this story is rated T, which means: __Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes._

_I do not own the Hardy Boys characters and I am making no money from this story. _

_No Chet. Perhaps a brief cameo for Auntie Gert._

_This story is longer than my usual. Forgive me for the fluff, and forgive me for the meandering pace of the mystery. When the mystery is solved, the story is over, and I had a great time slowing down and enjoying these guys._

_An infinity of thanks to my good friend and beta, xcherryxlipsx; your positive feedback gives me the courage to post._

_Thank you very much for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I hope this story is fun for you. JB_

**9/3/18**

**Dear Hannah:**

**It's only been two weeks and I already miss you so much! That third tin of Macadamia Nut cookies was delicious as always, but it is okay to reduce the number of shipments. I don't want them to start tasting like guilt when you have nothing at all to feel guilty about. You worked hard your whole life, and no one deserves a peaceful retirement more than you do. Have you taught your nephew's family how to play gin rummy or will that forever just be our thing?**

**Yes, yes, yes, I am getting along with my new stepmother! I suppose I should be flattered that everyone keeps walking on eggshells asking me about that. Maybe I am a scary person who doesn't like anyone and I never knew it? Griselda (you have to admit that is an evil stepmother name, though) is pestering me with offers of Girls' Day Outs and Teas and Bonding Time and I see the effort even though it's obvious that she has never known any fourteen-year-olds or ever been fourteen herself. I still think Dad is totally whipped to be willing to switch to a crappier job and move us all the way out to Bayport just so Princess Griselda can keep her house and job and not be inconvenienced in any way.**

**Guess where I'm going tonight? It is too much to ask of Bayport to have a bowling alley, or a mini golf course, or a library with books that were written past 1960 (they don't) but Bayport ****does**** have a…drum roll…roller skating rink! The first day of high school is tomorrow, and the school is sponsoring tonight's session for the ninth and tenth graders. The goal is for the tenth graders to make us ninth graders feel more comfortable, but I will believe it when I see it. You know how adults are forever thinking about how teenagers will behave in theory without having a clue about how teenagers will behave in real life. Anyway, you and I know that roller skating is serious and takes all of a person's focus. That was such great advice that you gave me three years ago: skating is not about racing as fast as you can around a circle, but about losing yourself in the music and the movement, dancing and flowing and balance. I tried to explain this to Dad but he will still be disappointed when I don't make any friends tonight.**

**Write back soon! Love, Nancy**

Ndhb

"Are you sure you don't need me to come in there with you, Nancy?" Carson Drew asked for the eighth time, pulling his Station Wagon to a halt near the roller skating rink.

"I think I'm capable of rolling around in circles on my own, Dad," Nancy said. "Although I will also cry my eyes out without you? Not sure if I should provide comfort that I _do_ need you or that I _don't_ need you."

Carson appeared to seriously consider this. "Both, I guess. Now, honey…believe me, I don't like saying this any more than you like hearing it, but make sure you buy all your own snacks—don't let any boys buy you any snacks—and if a boy puts his hands on you, pretending that you need help learning to skate when you obviously do not, especially during the couples skate—"

Nancy grinned wickedly, turning to her father and hooking a stray shoulder-length red curl behind her ear. "So that's the kind of place you've moved me to? Where the boys put their hands wherever they want to and make me pay them back in other ways for a dollar soda? Or are you afraid that these gangsters will slip a drug into my drink?"

"Nancy," Carson said warningly.

Nancy saw a group of girls in skin tight jeans walk past their car toward the entrance. Nancy suddenly realized that, while her father's Station Wagon might have been respected as iconic in River Heights, it might not be afforded the same status in Bayport. "I promise not to even hold a boy's filthy hands during the couples skate," she said hurriedly, gathering her skates and opening the car door.

"I'll pick you up right here at 9:30 sharp," Carson said. "You can't lollygag even if you want to because Bayport just passed a 10:00 curfew ordinance."

_"Curfew?" _Nancy exited the car, carefully navigating her limbs. Her entire year of seventh grade had been a rotating series of bruises as she'd struggled to adjust to several new inches of legs. Other girls had complained of sudden padding in their hips and butt, but Nancy would have welcomed just a little bit so she didn't feel quite so gangly.

"No mysteries tonight, Nancy. No searching for mysteries, no thinking about who the killer is in your latest mystery book," Carson called to her before she shut the door behind her.

Nancy saluted and began walking briskly toward the entrance. She felt a cold fist of trepidation close around her heart as she finished the lonely walk to the ticket booth and paid for her admission. She did not consider herself shy, but the past year of her life had been filled with so much change that the zero time spent in her comfort zone was becoming exhausting.

Then she opened the door and breathed a long, slow exhale of relief.

The lights were dimmed, providing as much anonymity as possible while still being safe. It was pleasantly crowded, with enough people to have a good time, but not so many that they would be obstacles on the rink. The space was not dilapidated and not ritzy either, with the just the basics: a beautiful brown wooden oval with striped lanes, tables, a few arcade games, and a snack bar. And the most essential ingredient of all, freestyle music from the olden days, released way back in the century before the one she'd been born in. Stevie B's "Spring Love" was on the loudspeaker at a surprisingly reasonable volume. Maybe if she hurried, she could still skate for the end of the song. She found the nearest empty seat and changed into her skates in record time, shoving her spare money and cell phone into the center pocket of her pullover and dashing out to the rink.

Nancy didn't get far before she heard a male voice behind her, not unkind but with authority. "Miss! Stop—you need to stop—"

Nancy heard and attempted to obey, but she couldn't stop before entering the rink, and suddenly she found herself windmilling her arms in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. She felt a firm hand on her back, quickly and gently guiding her toward the side rail so she could lean on it. But as soon as her physical danger was over, her flaming cheeks quickly matched the color of her hair. _This_ was the first impression she'd made for Bayport High?

Her rescuer now had one hand on her low back and one hand on her left shoulder. Nancy looked over at him and nearly lost her balance again. He was only a few inches taller than her and couldn't be much older, but there was something about the way he carried himself that commanded respect. Dark hair matched dark eyes, with the black and white button down shirt of an official. One of his eyebrows slowly raised.

"You're good? Can I let go now?" he asked.

A thought entered Nancy's mind unbidden: her father had been right. Within ninety seconds of entering her first high school event, a boy's hands were all over her body. She burst out laughing.

He smiled slightly. "I take that as a yes," he said, removing his hands. "You missed the opening announcements. You obviously know how to skate, but you couldn't have known that the roller derby group oiled the rink this afternoon for their practice. The floor will get less slick as the night goes on, but we have to take it slower for now, okay?"

His eyes focused once more on the rink. Nancy desperately didn't want their interaction to end like this, with only a near-fall and maniacal laughter on her part. She blurted out the joke her father always used on people wearing black and white referee uniforms. "Take off that Patriots jersey," she said.

He turned back to her. "Not from around here, I take it. Connecticut doesn't have a football team of its own, so be careful who you tell New England Patriots jokes to."

Nancy was so embarrassed that she felt a lump begin to form at the back of her throat.

Then the boy leaned in just an inch closer. "And we do need to go a little easier on Tom Brady for buying out the referees. The football is just so much heavier when it's got all that _air_ in it." He smiled at her. "My name is Frank, and our two adult chaperones are Coach Hafetz and Miss Swain, also in black and white shirts. Let us know if you need any help at all." He skated off, blowing his whistle and signaling to two racing students to slow down.

Nancy grinned after him even though he couldn't see her. Her father hated the Patriots more than most of the criminals he'd prosecuted, and he would howl with laughter when she told him this newest Deflategate joke. Nancy felt foolish for continuing to hang onto the side railing. She tentatively pushed off, taking the clunking tentative steps of the once-bitten-twice-shy. She slowed down around the turns and took her time crossing over her inside leg, and within only a few laps she had made the necessary adjustments and entered her "flow" mindspace. A moment later she glanced at the clock and was amazed to see that a half hour had gone by already.

Nancy checked out her fellow skaters and made some speculations to herself. The students who were out on the rink were probably the most athletic or at least the bravest, as the majority were sitting at tables chatting, probably not wanting to risk a near-fall experience as embarrassing as Nancy's. A few students were holding hands and she made efforts to memorize who was dating whom. Nancy certainly wasn't the only person skating without a huddle of friends close by.

"Couples skate, so find your special someone," the announcer said over the loudspeaker, and at least ninety percent of the crowd immediately dispersed. The two adult referees exited as well. The music didn't slow down, however; they played "Dreamboy" by Cynthia and Johnny O, which still had a nice beat to it. Nancy skated an extra lap simply because she didn't want to stop, and headed toward the exit.

Just before she reached it, however, she felt a soft, small hand in her own, assertively guiding her around the curve.

Nancy turned her head and saw nothing. She looked down and saw the top of a girl's head. A pretty elf looked up six inches to return eye contact. Everything about her was small, yet defined; her straight, blonde hair completed the effect, and it occurred to Nancy that the only missing feature was pointy ears.

"I'm Callie," the girl said, and grinned mischievously. "What's a new school year without fresh gossip? Let's give them something to talk about."

Nancy felt herself immediately infected by Callie's energy. Nancy had never courted attention but had never run from it, either. Following her first instinct, she replied, "My name is Nancy. And it's 2018. They wouldn't dare try to throw out two girls from a couples skate."

Nancy remembered her promise to her father that she wouldn't hold a boy's hand during the couples' skate. Well, she was certainly keeping her promise. Nancy laughed out loud, making Callie giggle, and Nancy pulled Callie around a curve to increase the lighter girl's momentum.

"Oh my goooood," someone drawled near the side rail.

"Oh, look, there are only four other couples out here besides us, so let's speed up. Hi, Iola!" Callie waved cheerfully at a brunette whose expression quickly turned to confusion. Iola's boyfriend—a tall, slender boy with wavy brown hair and glasses—noticed Callie and Nancy skating together and stumbled. Iola's attention immediately turned to steadying him before he fell.

"Iola and Phil. She's a sucker for funny boys and nerds," Callie explained, then abruptly pivoted, first skating backwards, and then moving in front of Nancy when both girls had made the necessary adjustments. They now faced each other and held hands. Nancy's worries of Callie falling immediately evaporated; somehow Callie's style was so smooth that the smaller girl was even helping to steady Nancy.

"You skate better than I walk," Nancy said. Nancy saw movement in her peripheral vision and realized with a shock that she had forgotten all about her dark-haired rescuer.

"Hi, Frank," Callie said, her voice a bit too sing-song. "Everything okay?"

Frank didn't answer. His expression was unreadable.

Nancy realized the impact of what she was doing. People might recognize her tomorrow at her first day of a brand new high school where she knew no one, not even this girl she was skating with; she was uncertain what Frank would think of her as a result of this; and it would be especially humiliating if she fell.

Nancy glanced nervously at the sidelines. A few people were watching, most were talking to their friends; and the male adult chaperone, Coach Hafetz, was approaching the female adult chaperone, Miss Swain. He tucked a small square piece of paper into her shirt pocket and continued skating past her.

Nancy frowned. The movement had been so quick and the light was so low. Had she imagined it? Or did she finally have a mystery on her hands—the kind she'd only ever read about?

"Focus, Nancy," Callie warned, and Nancy complied. A moment later, the song ended. Somewhat reluctantly, Nancy loosened her grip.

But Callie tightened their grip once more. "Let's sit the next few songs out while you meet the rest of your new gang," she said, leading Nancy to exit the rink and head across the carpeted floor.

Nancy saw Miss Swain roll back into the rink. Miss Swain wouldn't have had an opportunity to read her note and she couldn't very well read it while she was out there.

Nancy had no time for anticipatory anxiety, as she and Callie arrived at a table in only a few seconds. Callie sat next to a girl with long ash-blonde hair and grey-blue eyes, who she introduced as Vanessa. Callie slid over and patted the seat next to her.

Nancy took her cue, and now the three girls sat facing two boys. A lanky, spikey-haired blonde with a perpetual good-natured smirk was introduced as Joe; an olive-skinned boy with a mop of curly black hair was introduced as Tony.

"So how'd we do?" Callie said with excitement, leaning in.

"Sorry to disappoint, ladies, but people don't notice two girls skating like they'd notice two guys," Tony said.

"Sexism to men," Joe commented, nodding knowingly like he was a frequent victim of discrimination.

"The guys don't know the best places to look," Vanessa said, her eyes twinkling. "Look at this picture I got of Stacy Anderson's group."

Callie took one look and threw back her head in a loud, throaty laugh. Vanessa's phone was passed around the table so all could enjoy the wide-eyed, scandalized expressions of several heavily made up girls. One girl even had her hand over her heart.

"And I can't be sure, but I think you annoyed Frank," Joe said, holding up his hand for a high five.

Callie followed through. "Should we take bets on whether I'll get a talking-to or not?"

"Oh, you guys…don't like Frank? That's the guy who works here, right?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"He doesn't work here. He's just helping for this one night. And, no, we don't like Frank. That guy's a real asshole," Joe said. "He's got a meth lab in his basement."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Then who _else_ would also have a meth lab in their basement, Joe?"

"Frank and Joe are brothers," Callie explained, finally ending Nancy's suspense.

"Oh! You—wow, you two don't look alike," Nancy said.

"Nope," Joe said. "I look like our mom, Frank looks like our mailman."

"_Again_ with accidentally insulting yourself, Joe," Vanessa teased him. "You just told a yo mama joke about your own mama."

Nancy couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "So, umm…who is dating who, in this group of friends?"

Defensive shrieks rose from the girls' side of the table, laughter and propositions from the boys' side.

"Callie is playing footsies with me under the table right now, but I'm still playing hard to get," Joe said.

"Any time you want four wheels in your crotch, just let me know, baby," Callie retorted.

"And there's a dramatic love triangle between Iola, Phil, and Tony," Joe said with a grin.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Not really. My older brother Michael has been telling me all summer about how great Iola is. Understand that he has never spoken to Iola or probably even looked at her. She has an eighteen-year-old cousin Polly who moved in with her and her parents at the beginning of the summer to start going to UConn. But Polly has been picking up takeout all the time from my family's pizzeria and taking twenty minutes to check out at the register, so I think Michael is doing okay without my help."

Soon Nancy could piece together that only Phil and Iola were dating out of their group. Joe's eyes darkened when Phil's name was mentioned, and Nancy made a mental note to find out what had come between him and Phil. Vanessa, Frank, and Phil were the only tenth graders, everyone else freshmen. The friends all lived within a mile radius of each other, with the high school close by. Frank tended to be the cautious, morally upright member who kept the rest of the group reined in, which tended to annoy Joe and Callie at times.

Nancy gazed around her new group of friends. Was this really what it appeared? Had a group of friends really fallen into her lap? She'd never had much interest in boys in middle school—Bess and George were all she'd needed—but this group seemed to seamlessly blend boys and girls. Maybe high school boys were more mature, since they were now almost men?

Joe interrupted Nancy's thought by burping so long and loud that the table shook.

Callie glowered at him and Vanessa waved her hand back and forth to clear the air.

"So what's your story?" Tony asked to transition. Nancy was intrigued by him: he had a frank, open expression, relaxed among his friends, but somehow with an undercurrent of danger. She thought that she wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of him.

Nancy kept her story brief, but included all the major details so they could get to know her: how in 2016 her long-widowed father had reached out to someone he'd attended law school with, dated long distance, and waited to marry her so Nancy could finish middle school in River Heights, Illinois. Her voice began to break when she told them that their housekeeper had chosen not to move with them because she was getting up in years and had moved in with her nephew instead.

After waiting a respectful moment of silence, Joe asked, "What kind of law work does your father do?"

Nancy looked up at him and saw an empathetic, gentle expression on his face. So he must be easily able to transition between joking around and being serious. "He transferred to the County Prosecutor's office," she answered.

"Oh, wow," Joe said, sitting up a little straighter. "My dad is a private investigator and will definitely want to reach out to him. They'll have some work together. I'll let my dad know tonight and maybe I can give you a message for your dad at school tomorrow. From Fenton Hardy."

"Hardy," Nancy said thoughtfully, and pulled out her phone to make a note on her calendar.

"Wait until I talk to my dad first," Joe reminded her.

Nancy shook her head. "I mean, sorry, yes, I will wait, it's just that your last name reminded me that one of my favorite mystery authors is coming out with a new book in November. I can't believe I forgot to put the alert on my phone. She lives around here somewhere. That was my dad's biggest selling point, trying to get me excited about moving here."

"Um…Laura Hardy, the mystery writer?" Vanessa asked.

"You guys read her too?" Nancy peeked up and saw knowing glances passed around the table.

Joe raised his eyebrows. "You're the youngest of her fans by maybe forty-five years."

"My dad doesn't want me to read any violent mystery books yet, so she's an author we can compromise on," Nancy explained, and instantly froze in embarrassment. Why had she just made herself look like such a baby?

"She's my mom," Joe said. "She gets most of the ideas for her books from my dad's cases. Do you want to meet her?"

Nancy spent the next several moments desperately trying to suck oxygen into her lungs, wrapping her hands around her abdomen and bending over at the waist as if those maneuvers could possibly help.

"Uh, does she need a paper bag or something?" she vaguely heard Callie ask.

"CPR only if she loses consciousness," Joe clarified.

Nancy was finally able to drag in a long, shuddering breath. "Ohmigod yes, yes, I want to meet her—and I can ask her questions, oh my god I have to prepare…how can I pay you back, can I do your chores or something?"

The group burst out laughing. The group topic moved on to anticipated schedules at school tomorrow, and Nancy was unable to concentrate. She saw a faint movement of black and white next to the trash cans twenty feet away on her right. Miss Swain stopped next to the trash cans, read her note, smiled, and discarded it.

Nancy waited only until Miss Swain had returned to the rink. "I need to go to the restroom," Nancy said to the group. Fortunately, the high schoolers had taken advantage of the snack bar, and there was so much trash piled up that Nancy only needed to slip her hand and wrist into the trash can. It was not a graceful operation under normal circumstances, much less with skates on, but quick enough that Nancy figured that not too many people had seen. She skated into the nearest available bathroom stall and opened the note.

MEET ME IN THE GYM FRIDAY THE 7TH at 4:00 IF YOU WANT ME TO SLIP YOU THE PACKAGE

Nancy thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the night of skating with the girls. Joe and Tony sat back down after only a few minutes of stumbling. She could finally compare the group's jarring height differences once they changed back into their shoes: Tony was Nancy's height, 5'6, while Joe and Vanessa were almost six feet tall. Despite the new mystery of the note, Nancy's favorite part of the night was when Callie asked for her phone number and volunteered to pass it around the group. So maybe this group would want to be friends with her after tonight.

Nancy gave her number to Callie and felt embarrassed by what she knew she had to say next. "But I tell everybody that, um…I don't get texts or internet on my phone. My dad is a little overprotective. But I still know things about life," Nancy added. "If he wanted to completely shelter me, he shouldn't have sent me to public schools."

"So?" Carson asked as Nancy got into his car. "Was the night more social than you thought it was going to be?"

"More social and more profitable," Nancy answered.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed!

**To: [George Fayne]**

**From: [Nancy Drew]**

**9/5/18 4:42 p.m.**

**Re: Updates**

**Dear George:**

**OMG ROTFL I cannot believe these updates you have about which skanky couples are dating at school now. Glad to hear that you and Bessie are adjusting well to River Heights High (or should I say High River Heights—seriously are there as many drugs in that high school as the Sunday School teachers warned us about?) but I am also just a teensie bit glad that you say it is a little sad without me.**

**Miss you guys, and please don't think that my new friends will ever replace my old. The three of us will still talk on threeway for an hour every night even when we are in nursing homes. My dad and Griselda are fine, but they worry about all the wrong things…my dad is constantly reassuring me that Griselda does not replace my mom, but that is not the problem since I don't remember my mom. I know in the movies, people whose moms died when they were toddlers always have one special flashback of their mom smiling lovingly at them in a field of wildflowers, and I've always felt guilty that I don't. **

**It's just weird to share my dad with another person. It's like Hannah was my person that I shared with him, but Griselda is his person that he shares with me. And I don't know why they thought I wouldn't be able to handle starting a new high school because that would have happened anyway in River Heights, right? They also tend to panic that they have to work such long hours, like I am going to be all messed up in the head that I come home to an empty house. I get annoyed with them for treating me like a child but it's like most of the time I want to be treated like an adult, but just once in a while I want to be treated like a kid, but only under very specific circumstances…that's not normal, right, like do you ever feel like that?**

**Soooooo excited about my exclusive interview tonight with bestselling author Laura Hardy! I narrowed my questions down to 27…is that still too many, do you think?**

**Love, Nancy**

Ndhb

"Number 27. Is it the most fun when the villain is the character that readers least suspect, most suspect, or medium suspect? Another excellent question," Laura said, handing the paper of questions back to Nancy and leaning back on the Hardys' living room couch. "There were many decades in mystery writing when it was totally unacceptable to make the antagonist the person readers most suspect. Well, readers will immediately discard the person that the police suspect, which makes it quite tempting as an author to make that person the antagonist after all. The story is still interesting if there is a totally different motive and method that the police didn't know about."

"Zero hour. Agatha Christie," Nancy contributed, nodding knowingly.

"But Christie also overused the 'mistaken identity' angle, making her stories more predictable," Laura said. "As for the person readers least suspect—the grandmother, the best friend—there was a time when mystery writers overdid that, too."

"Mary Higgens Clark," Nancy chimed in.

"Yes, although she has reversed that trend in recent years. She's ninety now and it will be a terrible loss for our genre when she passes on. And so, to answer your question in the broadest possible sense, Nancy, I tend to find it the most fun to use one of the many characters that a reader would most medium suspect."

Laura watched the redheaded teenager in front of her frantically take notes, despite wincing and periodically shaking her hand like she had a cramp. Nancy glanced at the clock and her jaw dropped. "Well, that was my last question…I don't like our interview to be over, but I promised you that it would only take one hour, and it's been over two. I can't possibly thank you….I mean, you have no idea how much this means…"

"Has it really been that long? I've thoroughly enjoyed myself," Laura said, smiling. "Your questions are so much more…intriguing and nuanced than the usual questions I receive. This is the first time I've been asked what my heroine's spirit animal is, what I have edited _out_ of novels, and whether I believe in _reader's_ block. Plus, I'm sure your father and my husband needed this extra time on the back porch to discuss local politics and personalities and cases."

"I've learned so much," Nancy gushed. "Start a first outline at the end of the story and work back…make the mystery personal to the characters…a twist should come from information that can be interpreted multiple ways, not new information right at the end. Your books are absolutely my favorite, especially because—" Nancy suddenly stopped speaking.

"Go on," Laura encouraged.

"The man and woman I most like always get together at the end. But true love is true love," Nancy said, her tone mildly defensive.

"Of course it's very important who gets together at the end. You're in Joe's grade, right?" Laura rose and walked to her bookshelf, scanning the titles and selecting one. "It is time for you to begin to read widely in every genre, Nancy. You are at the perfect age to begin reading Jane Austen."

Nancy took the book that Laura proffered. "Pride and Prejudice. Are you saying that this is a romance? My dad"—Laura saw Nancy squirm slightly—"he doesn't want me to read romances."

"It is G rated, believe me. I will speak to your father and see if I can get you permission to read it. A young woman should always start with that novel, and then read Jane's other five major works in the order that she needs them at various times of her life," Laura said. "Every writer needs to know what readers are looking for in character growth in addition to the deductive reasoning at the end."

Nancy nodded, and then her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, no. I don't want to be a writer. I mean, I love all of your books and I will read everything you write, I love what you create, but I want to be a detective. Actually, I've never thought about writing before."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "How many mystery books have you read?"

"Hundreds."

"So you enjoy learning how an author thinks, the structure of a story, how to shape characters…oh, that's right, your father is a lawyer. Does he allow you to help him with his cases?"

Nancy appeared further embarrassed. "Umm…well, no…not yet, he says I'm too young…but Hannah used to tell me that the only reason I couldn't find a detective case of my own was because everyone in River Heights was afraid to commit a crime and have to face the great Carson Drew in court. But I've already found a case here!" she blurted out.

Laura leaned forward, frowning slightly.

"It's between Coach Hafetz and Miss Swain, the eleventh and twelfth grade English teacher," Nancy continued. "He passed a note to her at the roller skating rink that I intercepted out of the trash can. I memorized it. It said, 'Meet me in the school gym Friday the 7th at 4:00 if you want me to slip you the package.'"

Laura stilled. "That's in two days. I'm…very glad you're telling me about this, Nancy."

"Don't worry, I will have my phone on me at all times to call 911 if I need to," Nancy replied. "Adults don't need to get involved yet because they could just be talking about school supplies or something. I live close to the school so I can easily—"

Laura interrupted her. "Nancy, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I need you to promise me that you won't go anywhere near the gym on Friday. Go right home after school. My husband will be very grateful to you for telling him about this new case."

Nancy's mouth opened. She appeared surprised and disappointed. "But the heroes in your books are always amateur detectives. I'm grown up," Nancy said in a small voice. "I can help."

"And you have helped," Laura said, more gently this time. "This would never be followed up on if you hadn't brought it to our attention. Thank you for working together with us on this, Nancy. One day, very soon—"

They were interrupted by the front door opening. Frank, Joe, and Phil entered, yet only Joe's backpack and shoes were unceremoniously dumped next to the front door.

"Enjoy your logarithm homework, ladies, if that's really what you're doing up there in Frank's bedroom," Joe said over his shoulder, heading to the basement door on the other side of the living room. "I trust Frank, against my better judgment, but _you_, Cohen…"

"Against _my_ better judgment, Joseph, I will not make you apologize for that homophobic remark if you put your things away in their proper locations," Laura interjected. "Funny, I feel like I've told you to do that before. Every day, in fact."

Joe looked to his left and appeared to notice his mother and Nancy for the first time. "Oh…hi, Nancy. That's right, this is the big interview night."

Frank and Phil said hi as they headed up the stairs, Phil's expression mildly uncomfortable. Laura greeted them and turned back to Joe and Nancy just in time to see an expression of reverence on Nancy's face as she gazed toward Frank's direction. Nancy quickly looked away and the expression was gone.

"How was the Scouts meeting, honey?" Laura asked Joe, tone more pleasant than it had recently been.

Joe picked up his backpack and shoes, wincing like it were too much work. "Fine. There's going to be a retreat two weekends from now. Frank and Phil as our holy Life Scouts will be going to a boring dinner Wednesday the 19th to help the leaders prepare. Remind me never to move one badge up if that's how it works. See you at school tomorrow, Nancy."

Laura waited until he was gone before turning once more to Nancy. "Promise me you won't go near the gym on Friday, Nancy," she said, her voice serious.

"I promise," Nancy said quietly, with only a touch of sullenness. She began to gather her documentation. Laura saw her glance thoughtfully up the stairs.

Laura made a quick decision. "Since you've helped me with a mystery, I'll help you with one as well. I trust you to treat this subject delicately. Joe doesn't have a problem with Phil."

Nancy frowned. "But…"

"Deductive reasoning, Nancy," Laura said. "If Joe doesn't have a problem with Phil, can you think of any other reason why he would resent Phil?"

Nancy's expression cleared. "Iola!"

"I'm impressed that your new girlfriends have the delicacy not to discuss it openly," Laura said. "Joe might have too much pride to admit even to himself that he likes Iola, and therefore shows prejudice toward Phil. Phil is a genius but lacks the social perception to pick up on this, and I really don't know what Iola thinks. She doesn't toy with Joe, I can see that much."

Nancy smiled. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Mrs. Hardy."

"The whole town probably knows except for the three people involved. I know Frank figured it out a long time ago. Now…can we view each other as detective partners, Nancy?" Laura asked. "I'd also be glad to give you some writing assignments and lessons, sometime after my book release in November when I'm less busy."

Nancy's face brightened. "Lessons? Okay. Thank you. I'll start practicing my writing until then."

"Good. And, Nancy—" Laura stood up, and Nancy followed her example—"Welcome to Bayport. I'm flattered that you're such a good fan. And I'm glad you're in Frank and Joe's group of friends. Since Callie is the person who reached out to you, you are definitely cemented as one of the gang; Callie tends to be the ringleader of the girls. And she has good taste in character."

Nancy flushed, and Laura could tell that this time it was from pleasure, not embarrassment. Laura walked Nancy out to their back porch to join Carson and Fenton. Laura quickly obtained permission for Nancy to read Jane Austen's romance novels, once she explained to Carson that no one even kisses in them. Laura waved away Carson's offer of payment for her interview with Nancy and, after a final handshake between Carson and Fenton, Carson and Nancy took their leave.

Laura got herself and Fenton each a beer and sat next to him on the porch. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"Very well. I went with my gut and didn't hold much inside information back about his new workplace. Our County Prosecutor's office isn't the worst in the world, but there's plenty of nepotism, people who expect favors just for doing the right thing, rules that get enforced for some people and not others." Fenton took a sip. "It'll be a long time before Carson will be able to scratch my back in return, but it's always good to have friends on the inside. Kind of a shame, really, what he chose to do with his life. He's got a good head on his shoulders, wants to make a difference, a strong ethical system. Wonder why he chose to go into _law_."

Laura gave her husband a wry smile. "I haven't noticed lawyers looking down on detectives like detectives look down on lawyers."

"Because they're jealous of us. We get to work at finding the truth, not spinning the truth." Fenton changed the subject. "How did your interview go?"

"Quite well. I like Nancy very much," Laura said. "She's so full of energy, like she can't wait for her adult life to begin. And she's either awed by Frank or attracted to him or both."

"Explain to me again why she wanted to interview you, not me, if she wants to be a detective?" Fenton asked.

"Good question," Laura replied. "I wonder if she thinks she wants to be a detective, but she really wants to be a writer."

"A writer?" Fenton asked, incredulous.

Laura didn't like how close her husband's expression was to a scoff. "As I recall, my novels paid off this house and gave us a nice cushion in the bank, leaving you free to pick and choose which cases to take on and how many. Is there an opinion you'd like to share on mystery writing, Fenton?"

"Sexiest profession I've ever heard of, babe," Fenton said, not missing a beat.

Laura gave him one last warning look, and then sighed. "But there's no way Nancy would know whether she wants to go into detective work or write mysteries because her father doesn't allow her to help in his legal cases. So all she can do is read books about crime, books that are pre-screened by her father. There's a naivety to her that could cause some problems, if she leaps into things with both feet without having enough information to make wise choices. I'm afraid that if Carson doesn't give her some kind of exposure, she'll get into detective work on her own, but without adult supervision."

Fenton turned his head sharply to look at her, serious and silent, waiting for her to speak again. It was the perfect move to make. Laura knew that if her husband had spoken, the conversation would have instantly dissolved into the usual tense argument.

Laura closed her eyes for a long moment. "One more year, Fenton," she said, then opened her eyes and took a long swig of her beer. "Give me one more year of peace with our boys, and then they can begin helping you with cases when Frank is a junior and Joe is a sophomore. They need some experience so they know what career they want to study in college."

Fenton reached over and caressed her upper arm with his thumb and forefinger. "Thank you. The boys and I really appreciate this, Laura."

Laura moved on to another topic before she changed her mind. "And Nancy let me know that she intercepted a note that Coach Hafetz gave to Miss Swain at the roller skating night. He said that he would meet her in the school gym at four o'clock this Friday if she wanted him to slip her the package."

"Oh, those idiots." Fenton pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll take care of it. Wait a second, doesn't Coach have football practice on Fridays at 4:00?"

"Frank mentioned sometime that the assistant coach guides the team through warm-up and stretches, and Coach Hafetz joins them later," Laura said. "So Coach has a little bit of time to himself while the rest of the team is outside. And I'd like to be the one to speak to them, unless there's a reason why you don't want me to. I'll arrive at the school gym a little before 4:00 and wait for them. It might be more effective that way, if they realize how close they were to getting caught. If they don't listen to me—and I think they will—then you can talk to them about the possible consequences with the school board."

"I don't exactly know what the consequences would be with the school board, but I'll do a little research tonight. Unless you can think of a better way to pass the time once the boys are in bed." Fenton dropped a hand lightly on his wife's knee. "We just resolved a years-long debate, which deserves some celebra—"

"Sunday morning as usual, when the boys are sleeping in," Laura interrupted sweetly, and gave him a kiss on the forehead before heading in.

**To: [Bess Marvin]**

**From: [Nancy Drew]**

**9/6/18 10:32 p.m.**

**Re: Bestselling Novel**

**Dear Bess:**

**Have you read Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen? My eyes have been opened! Human nature and romantic relationships slowly came into focus with every page I read. I'm more than halfway through and I only got the book yesterday. After receiving topnotch writing tips from my exclusive interview with bestselling author Laura Hardy, I decided that I can jumpstart my detective career by writing novels until I am eighteen and can open my private detective practice. I am so tired of bad guys that are only misunderstood, partially bad, and kind-of-sort-of evil, victims of their childhood. I want my antagonist to be clearly understood in her 100% evil ways, with a perfect childhood besides, so there is no excuse for her villainhood! What do you think? Does my character come on too strong? Love, Nancy**

**Bestselling Novel**

** Miss Magpie took a lengthy puff on her cigar and congratulated herself on the many murders she had committed over the years.**

** Her first murder had been at the age of eleven. She hadn't liked her butler's tone of voice when he had inquired after her favorite flavor of herbal tea. She hadn't murdered again until she was eighteen. Her father had met with his lawyers on her eighteenth birthday to ensure that she inherited everything upon his death. It had been torturous for Miss Magpie to wait a respectable three months to kill him off; after all, she didn't want to appear **_**too**_** obvious. She couldn't remember who her third victim had been—assuredly, a person so insignificant they did not even deserve her wasted brainpower in attempting to recollect their identity—and she had killed over a hundred people since then. But it had now been a full five months since her last kill and she was shaking from withdrawal.**

** Miss Magpie chuckled to herself, then regretted it. Evil laughter was reserved for amateurs and Disney villains. The problem with police, she thought, was that they were so obsessed with motive. Who needed a motive? The only factor she ever thought of was opportunity. **

**She gazed around her underground laboratory lovingly: she still used the same beakers and Bunsen burners that her chemistry professor had provided while desperately in love with her. After she'd learned everything he knew, she covered her tracks by squeezing three drops of a special solution into the vent system of his car. He had breathed the solution daily, building it up in his system for four months until he had a stroke that only appeared to arise from natural causes.**

**The Fed Ex guy was late again with his delivery of cyanide and mustard gas. Annoyed, Miss Magpie dipped a microscopic needle into a boiling purple mixture, then walked upstairs and carefully glued it to her doorbell. Fifteen minutes later, she smiled as she heard the ring of her doorbell and a mild "ouch!" The poison on the doorbell needle would seal the skin's puncture wound, then seep into the delivery guy's lungs and squeeze them to death in exactly seventeen days. The delivery guy couldn't see the needle and would feel silly reporting such a minor injury, and nothing with his autopsy would ever connect her with his death.**

**But Miss Magpie was already bored by the time she had taken her supplies back through the trapdoor and into her secret underground chemistry lab. It was time to test local law enforcement. She had moved to Bayport three weeks ago; this time, she would stay in one location long enough to kill five people before moving on. She was confident that there was no detective in this hillbilly town that could outwit her.**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed the last chapter! Happy Easter to those who celebrate (or enjoy the festive feeling!).

Nancy had just walked into her front door after school that Friday when she received a call on her cell phone from Iola.

"Nancy—oh, thank God, you're the only person I can call." Iola sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh no! What happened?" Nancy dumped her backpack on the floor.

"My…ahhhh I feel so gross…I'm still at school, I'm in detention, and I felt awful and asked to go to the bathroom…"

"Detention? What did you do?" Nancy felt a thrill of excitement that she hung out with the bad crowd now.

"I was late to school today and yesterday, remember? Anyway, I'm in the bathroom by the art room, and there's a small disgusting stain on my underwear."

"Oh, it's just your period!" Nancy exhaled in relief. "I'll get a pad and meet you there. Callie lives right across the street from the school, though—you might want to call her—"

"No—_for real_, you're the only person I can call, Nancy. I may have, umm…I may have bragged a couple of years ago that I got my period right when everybody else got theirs? But this is my first one! You can't tell anybody! I have no idea what to do, Nancy. And hurry, please, or the teacher in detention is going to think I'm fooling around!"

Nancy gave brief but assertive reassurances, along with instructions on temporary care. She threw some supplies into a cloth bag and sprinted back to the high school, three-quarters of a mile through residential streets and through the Bayport cemetery, ignoring the occasional glances she received. This was an emergency.

She slowed down as she entered the school, opening the door casually and walking briskly to the appropriate bathroom. She followed Iola's soft moans to the bigger handicapped stall.

"It's me, Nancy—hey, it's okay," Nancy said, bending over to pass the bag underneath the stall door.

Iola opened the door, pulled Nancy into the stall with her and re-locked the door. Her eyes glistened with moisture.

"First of all, take these two Ibuprofin," Nancy said, handing Iola pills and a bottle of water. Nancy took the items that she needed out of the bag of supplies and then tucked the bag into Iola's backpack. She then coached Iola through the process of putting on a pad and folding over the wings.

"So this is seriously for the rest of my life?" Iola said miserably when they were finished. "I thought maybe I was too old for it now…like, maybe since I play sports, my body thought I was turning into a man, and it would never come?"

"I'm so sorry, that's not how it works, sweetie," Nancy said comfortingly. "And now. There is just one more step." She held up a small tube.

Iola's eyes widened and she took a step back. "Is that what I think it is?"

"My friend Bess says that girls have to start wearing tampons immediately or they will be too afraid to start later, and Bess knows about these kinds of things," Nancy said with authority. "Think of all the things you'll be able to do. Play your sports, go to the beach, sleep through the night…"

"_This_ is how I'm going to lose my virginity? In this stall, with you?"

"At least this way you'll remember me for the rest of your life," Nancy said. "Now I will not force you to do anything against your will, Iola, but I will only step away if you order me to step away." Nancy slowly approached.

As Nancy left the building and re-entered the beautiful, sunny September day, she wondered if this was how Florence Nightingale had felt: terrible at contributing to a patient's temporary discomfort, but satisfied that the treatment had been for the greater good.

Nancy suddenly stopped mid-step. She looked at her watch. It was 3:56. This was the day she had been counting down to, the day of the 4:00 meeting in the school gym between Coach Hafetz and Miss Swain. Nancy had promised Mrs. Hardy that she would transfer the mystery into adult hands.

But she was already here…and she would be so much less conspicuous as a young student, and might overhear something the police needed to know. She could still keep her promise to Mrs. Hardy if she simply walked the long way home: around the back of the school, parallel to the athletic fields, in via the back door and through the hallway to home.

She picked up her pace. All she'd be doing was passing through.

"Nancy!"

Nancy turned and felt her heart sink for multiple reasons. She couldn't believe that she had to find a way to avoid a one-on-one conversation with Frank Hardy. If only this had been any other time.

"Hi, Frank," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Don't you need to get back to football practice?"

"It just started. I can do the opening stretches on my own," Frank said. He was in sweats and a T-Shirt, but had no padding on. He gestured for Nancy to follow him, and they headed toward a cluster of gym bags. He stood on one leg and did a quad stretch.

"Well, um…I have to go. I forget something in my locker—"

"So you're walking around the _back_ of the school?" Frank asked.

Nancy's posture slumped in frustration.

"My mom said that if I saw you hanging around here during football practice, I should give you this." Frank switched to a hamstring stretch and, while he was bent over, he reached into his gym bag and handed her a book.

Nancy accepted it and looked down. Northhanger Abbey by Jane Austen.

"Come with me," Frank said suddenly, heading behind the bleachers. Nancy quickly followed. She peeked through the benches and saw Mrs. Hardy leaving the gym, turning in the opposite direction from them and heading toward the parking lot.

"My mom wanted me to tell her if I saw you hanging around the gym or athletic fields this afternoon, since she knew I'd be at practice anyway. But since you'd just forgotten something in your locker and weren't heading to the gym, I have nothing to report," Frank said.

Nancy felt grateful toward him—he'd averted an embarrassing situation, and she very much wanted to retain his mom's good opinion of her-but she also felt hurt. "She came and took care of it herself?" Nancy asked. "Without even police, school security, nothing? I could have helped if it wasn't that serious."

Frank switched stretches again. "All right, I'll bite. What's going on?"

Nancy realized that Mrs. Hardy hadn't sworn her to secrecy. "Coach Hafetz gave Miss Swain a note that said he would meet her in the gym today at 4:00 if she wanted him to 'slip her the package.' I saw her throw the note in the trash at the roller skating night, so I might have taken it out of the trash and looked at it."

"Mmm," Frank said noncommittally. The rest of the football team began to assemble for drills.

Nancy gave him a frustrated look when he did not speak again. "Please, Frank, tell me what you're thinking. You don't look confused."

"Well," Frank began, "I don't feel great about making this speculation in front of a girl, but my first thought is that there are multiple meanings of the word package. Slipping her the package could be…a sexual euphemism."

Nancy frowned, trying to process this new interpretation. "But…no. Why wouldn't he just say that? He gave her a private note."

"Possibly so it wasn't too obvious in case the note was intercepted," Frank said wryly.

"So why don't they just call each other at night?"

"Probably because Miss Swain is single, but Coach is married with two small children. My guess is that my mom came here to tell them that they got caught and they need to stop before the situation gets worse."

Nancy heard her father's words in her ears: _Detectives can find out the truth, honey, but it's the lawyers' responsibility to make sure that truth leads to justice._ "Well, Coach's wife has the right to know," Nancy said. "I guess it's not illegal to have an affair, but, I don't know, the school also has a right to know."

"And who would be the biggest victims in that scenario?" Frank asked. "The two little kids, growing up without their dad. Joe and I have been reading articles about ethics to prepare for when we have to make a lot of these hard choices in the field. I'm glad you told my mom about your note, Nancy. And I hope you don't tell anybody else about this. I'm not going to tell anybody."

Nancy wondered if Frank had ever made a mistake in his entire life.

"By the way, Joe and I owe you a big thank you," Frank added. "Mom said that something about her interview with you convinced her to allow Joe and me to help our dad with cases in one more year."

"The interview convinced her?" Nancy asked, surprised but pleased. "Well, good. Maybe our whole group can help with your dad's cases? And maybe my detective agency will team up with yours and Joe's sometime in a few years."

"All of that sounds like fun." Frank reached out his hand.

Nancy's heart leaped into her throat. He wanted to hold her hand. Her face flushed. She tentatively reached the fingertips of her left hand forward…then she quickly pulled them back, hoping he hadn't noticed, and handed him the book.

"Of course," she said. "You'll have to give this book back to your mom because you did not see me hanging around the gym today. Thank you. I'll get it from the library."

"And thank _you_ for pushing up the start of my career by a couple of years," Frank said with a wink, dropping the book into his gym bag and running toward the athletic field.

Nancy was grateful that he never turned around, as he would have seen her face, arms, and neck graduate to a light shade of pink. She slowly walked home when her legs would allow her to move, debating with herself about ethics.

**To: [Bess Marvin]**

**From: [Nancy Drew]**

**9/10/18 8:30 p.m.**

**Re: Bestselling Novel, next installment**

**Dear Bessie:**

**You really need to check out ****Northanger Abbey**** by—of course—Jane Austen. I can see why my novelist friend Mrs. Hardy recommended it. I get what she was trying to tell me…it is about a girl who loves gothic literature so much that she went to her boyfriend's gothic house and began to think that his father murdered or imprisoned his mother…well, it was not true, and her boyfriend was offended, but the most important thing is that they made up and got married at the end. (Is that an anti-feminist comment? I want to be a feminist but I don't think I follow all of the rules.) There is kind of a parallel in how I so badly want there to be a mystery in Bayport that I almost made a bad situation worse. Mrs. Hardy never told me or Frank what happened with the coach and the teacher but if anyone knows about mysteries, it's her, and I will have to trust her.**

**Thanks for sticking with my story. Time for the next part. Let me know what you think! Love, Nancy **

**Bestselling Novel, next installment**

"**Why, yes, Detective. I'm available any time to answer questions. It's so terrible, the murders that have been happening in our local community. I'm sure I don't know anything, but if there's any way that I can help…" Miss Magpie made her voice quiver. She listened to the brief reply, hung up the phone, and smiled to herself.**

**Her attention turned to her first line of defense: a low-cut blouse, a quick fluff of her hair, and just enough makeup to make her look like she wasn't wearing it.**

**But before she could even double check all the poisonous hidden booby traps throughout her house, she heard a knock on the door.**

**Miss Magpie opened the front door, her confusion genuine. "Detective, I'm so…" For the first time in her life, she was at a loss for words.**

**Detective Frank Hardy stood on her front porch, his piercing brown eyes penetrating into her soul. He hadn't said a word, yet she felt that he knew everything she'd ever done. He stood at her equal height, brown hair wafting gently in the wind, his assertive jawline clenched, his hands casually in his pockets. His gaze never dipped to the plunging neckline on her blouse, yet her eyes lowered to where she could see the outline of his six-pack abs even through his three-piece suit. His cologne smelled faintly of her granny's antique furniture, and she felt an overwhelming urge to sit on him.**

**Detective Hardy raised a perfectly shaped manly brow. "I'm sorry, ma'am?"**

**Miss Magpie shook her head in an unladylike manner. She must clear her head and return to business. "I was apologizing because my doorbell must not be working."**

"**Oh, I'm old-fashioned. I just believe a knock is more personal."**

**Rats! So he had avoided the microscopic needle on her doorbell that was covered in deadly poison.**

**Miss Magpie remembered how she had squeezed three drops of lethal substance into the vent on her professor's car. "Where did you park?" she asked pleasantly. She arched her neck to look behind the detective toward her driveway, but found herself analyzing his shapely posterior instead.**

"**I rode my horse over," Frank said.**

**His horse? She had never thought to experiment with chemical warfare on horses. The increasingly frazzled murderess stood up straight to face him. There were plenty of chairs in her house that were covered in chemicals that would soak directly into his pores and go straight for the liver. "Please, come in and have a seat," Miss Magpie said pleasantly.**

"**Actually, here in Bayport, we're only allowed to enter a house when we have a warrant," Frank Hardy said smoothly.**

**The empress of crime highly doubted that that was true, but how could she try to force a genius detective into her home without appearing even more suspicious?**

"**But please, I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Miss Magpie," Frank said. "Why don't you go pour yourself a cup of herbal tea? What's your favorite flavor?"**

**Miss Magpie inwardly gasped. That was the last question her butler had asked her before she'd murdered him twenty years ago! Did the detective know?**

**There was a determined gleam in Detective Frank Hardy's eyes that Miss Magpie did not like at all.**


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I think I have read each review about a zillion times by now, and made some future edits based on them…it is the readers who have all the power on this website. We writers live for feedback; many, many thanks to all who are supporting this story. Thank you to my Guest(s?) for your valuable and insightful comments. Wish I could PM you. JB_

**To: [Bess Marvin]**

**From: [Nancy Drew]**

**9/18/18 5:22 p.m.**

**Re: Bestselling Novel, Final Installment!**

**Dear Bess:**

**I can't believe that I've been in Bayport for almost a month already…maybe there's some way you and Georgie can come visit me over Christmas break? You and Callie would either love each other or hate each other, I can't decide, because you both have such strong personalities. I wouldn't say this to my new friends (who don't replace my old besties!) but I feel (and hope?) that I make the group complete, now that there are four guys and four girls. Eight is kind of a big group, so we're almost never together all at once, and I am very relieved that there are plenty of times where the girls and guys are hanging out separately. I love those girl times because that is when I find out what is **_**really**_** going on and what everyone is **_**really**_** thinking. I now know all the best places to loiter around town.**

**I am so excited that I actually finished a book! You will never know how much your positive feedback has meant to me. What have you enjoyed the most in the past chapters: when Frank broke into Miss Magpie's bedroom window via grappling hook and dodged all her booby traps? The evidence he researched and gathered at all the places she lived before? His most devious and sexual interrogation techniques, leading to her arrest? I wanted to add a chapter where he did a séance and just asked the victims who killed them, but that might be too over-the-top. I have to make sure that my readers can 'suspend disbelief.' I'm sure my dad would whine that our legal system would not actually work like it does in this final chapter...if you could help me improve the historical and cultural inaccuracies I will list you first on the acknowledgements page upon publication! **

**What do you think? If I Control F Replace All for Frank's name, do you think Mrs. Hardy will still be able to figure out who I based my hero on?**

**Love, Nancy**

**Bestselling Novel, Final Installment**

**Miss Magpie sat smugly in court, twirling her hair. After Detective Frank Hardy had taken her into custody, she had returned to her devious scheming ways and hired the most expensive lawyers to give her the best defense money could buy. Her ethics-less legal team had been quite impressed by all the genius lies she had told while testifying: every loophole tied shut, every suspicious circumstance given a perfectly reasonable explanation. **

"**All rise for the verdict," the judge said. Miss Magpie uncrossed her legs and the judge winced. Miss Magpie's miniskirt was actually a headband and she flashed the judge and jury every time she moved an inch.**

**The head juror cleared her throat once the whole courtroom was standing.**

**The door at the back of the courtroom suddenly opened with a bang, and Detective Frank Hardy entered along with a nerd. Frank nodded briskly to the Prosecutor as if confirming something they'd discussed previously. Miss Magpie's knees weakened against her will, and she leaned over the table to avoid falling down. The judge winced again.**

"**Your honor!" the Federal Prosecutor shouted before the head juror could declare the verdict. "The prosecution would like to submit an appendix of two new expert witnesses and more exhibits."**

**The judge reviewed the amendments and approved them. Everyone sat down.**

**Frank took the stand. "We dug up the Native American burial ground that was less than a mile from the defendant's college," he said to the jury. He began to show gruesome pictures of decomposing bodies next to weapons with Miss Magpie's fingerprints on them.**

**The serial killer's mouth was bone dry. She had murdered all those people before she had learned her current methods of chemical warfare.**

"**We've seen enough," the judge finally interrupted. "Jury will re-convene."**

"**One final witness, please, Your Honor," the Prosecutor said. "Prosecution calls Phil Cohen, BS, MA, PhD, AOI, RE, NMM, EPPPCMR, GRI, OOS, VI, WRIII, QY, CRU, DSVW, SOT."**

"**Impressive credentials," the judge commented with respect.**

**Dr. Cohen swore in. "Our final exhibit is this 526 year old manuscript that we found while we were digging. As you can see from my credentials, I am more than qualified as both a handwriting and antiques expert to declare that this is a valid historical agreement between Christopher Columbus and the Aztecs that if their burial ground ever suffers sacrilege, the offender will be executed in a traditional manner. Miss Magpie's disturbance of their burial ground more than meets this criterion. There is no expiration date on this contract."**

"**Then it appears that the jury is irrelevant," the judge said. "How will the sentence be carried out?"**

"**My horse is tied up out back," Frank said.**

"**And I am an expert in execution techniques, as included in my credentials—" Phil began.**

"**Take her," the judge said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Our loss is hell's gain."**

**Miss Magpie stood up and walked slowly over to Detective Hardy. He stood impassively, eyes locked on hers; he did not meet her halfway, nor did he flinch from her.**

**The gorgeous villainess did not stop moving until a piece of paper couldn't have fit between her and the brilliant detective who had defeated her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long, deeply, and thoroughly.**

**The courtroom silently watched and no one told them to stop; everyone respected the moment for what it was.**

**Miss Magpie finally pulled away when her lips were too exhausted to continue. Frank calmly pulled a small vial out of his pants pocket and swallowed it in one gulp.**

**Curses! He'd anticipated her final attack. Her lips had been covered in poison (that she'd spent years building up immunity to) but he had brought the antidote into the courtroom with him.**

"**Go on," Frank told her gently. "Walk out with dignity."**

**Miss Magpie took one final look into those all-knowing eyes and, for the first time in her life, silently obeyed.**

**Several of the victims' families were waiting for her and Phil outside of the courthouse. They tied Miss Magpie over Frank's horse and rode her into the woods, her glow-in-the-dark green Ninja Turtles panties peeking out in the gathering dusk.**

**They arrived in a small clearing and dismounted. Miss Magpie closed her eyes and thought of Detective Frank Hardy's lips burning into her own, the heat spreading throughout her entire body, the experience better than any Jane Austen description she had ever read.**

**The whistle of Dr. Cohen's tomahawk was the last sound she ever heard.**

**THE END**

Ndhb

The first class after lunch the next day was Social Studies. Tony sat next to Nancy; Iola sat next to Callie; and Joe was in the front row, as every teacher required.

The door opened and the room instantly filled with catcalls, several varieties of oo-la-la, and one exaggerated orgasm.

The teacher stood up from her desk and glared at the student responsible for the sexual sound effects. "Now that we are a couple of weeks into the school year, it is time to introduce you to your Teacher's Assistant. The tenth grader who just joined us is your TA for this class, Phillip Cohen-"

"And don't go near him, ladies, or Iola will beat you up," a stupid jock named Biff called out.

Iola laughed, taking the joking in stride, but Phil was beginning to redden.

The teacher clapped sternly three times like they were in kindergarten. "Phil will be mostly behind the scenes, helping with lesson plans, grading only the multiple choice answers on your tests-"

Joe covered his mouth with his sweatshirt to muffle his voice. "Nerd alert. Nerd alert."

Iola swatted Joe's arm playfully. He smiled at her sheepishly.

"But today he will be giving a brief presentation on what the field of Social Studies means to him," the teacher persevered. "He will also be discussing an assignment you each will be given in order to see the relevance and exciting opportunities the field of Social Studies has in our everyday lives."

Phil took the podium. "The field of Social Studies has five components. The first component is culture. Culture is defined as the attitudes and behaviors that are characteristic of a particular social group."

Nancy tuned out. In the two weeks since roller skating, Phil had behaved exactly like what he initially appeared to be: very smart, respectful, kind, and somewhat socially awkward. Nancy had a strong suspicion that he would be quite good looking if he would dress better, get a professional haircut, and buy smaller glasses; however, she had never seen Iola try to change him.

Nancy had celebrated the completion of her first novel last night with a walk to the library before it got dark. She'd picked out the first Jane Austen novel on the shelf that she hadn't read yet, Emma, thinking with regret that she'd be halfway done Jane's major works when she finished this book. Nancy was almost halfway through the book already—she'd discovered how quickly she could fly through romance novels, since she didn't have to take detailed notes on clues and characters like she did in a mystery novel—and she liked the spirited character of Emma very much. Emma was always looking out for the people around her, making sure that the people she cared about had romantic partners that were fully compatible with them, not only partially compatible.

Nancy's father had taught her to begin the search for truth by finding the correct question to ask. She looked between Phil and Iola. _What one word would describe their relationship? _she asked herself.

Iola was pleasantly gazing at Phil in an attitude of attention, an admirable skill considering what a snooze Phil's speech was. Iola tended to try her best to understand his cerebral conversations, and Phil also made a valiant effort to discuss Iola's thoughts and feelings about what was going on in her life. Nancy had only seen them touch each other on the arm or the hand.

_Respect._

Nancy looked between Joe and Iola. Callie's words came back to her from the first night they'd met: _Iola has a soft spot for nerds and funny boys._

Phil wasn't a funny boy. Joe was a funny boy. Had Callie been insinuating something? Was there a spark there? Respect was a good foundation, but only one slice of the pie. Nancy respected her dad, but she wouldn't marry him. Nancy genuinely liked Phil, Iola, and Joe, and it was painful to see Joe suffer like he did. What if Joe and Iola could just _talk_? Joe had a right to tell Iola how he felt, and Iola had a right to know how Joe felt, and maybe Joe would find some closure, or Joe and Iola's friendship would grow stronger, or who knew what would happen.

"So remember to submit your one-page Idea Prospectus to me via email by 5:00 this coming Friday. Make sure to start working on it soon, as that's only two days from today," Phil said, nodded briefly, and soon returned to his own class.

A moment later Nancy passed Tony a note.

**I love Phil, but I have no idea what he just said. There are five components to death by boredom?**

The corners of Tony's mouth turned upward. He scribbled, glanced at the teacher to make sure her attention was off their side of the room, then returned the note.

**Poor Iola will cry herself to sleep tonight, not being able to hear more facts like this. Phil and Frank have their Life Scouts dinner to get ready for the retreat. **

Nancy thought for a moment before responding.

**Van is tutoring Cal for the French quiz tomorrow. What about the rest of us? You, me, Joe, Iola?**

By the end of the next class, it was decided that Tony, Nancy, Joe, and Iola would meet at the local arcade at 4:00 that afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I believe I have PMed all my reviewers now…your kind words mean the world to me. To my most recent Guest: it took me between five and ten tries to read your review aloud to my boyfriend because I was doubled over with laughter! Somehow I had never realized how ridiculous Miss Magpie would look while walking down the courtroom aisle to her doom. Hope everybody has a terrific weekend and thank you so very much. JB_

Somehow Nancy was the last person to arrive at the arcade, even though she had spent the entire afternoon at school making careful mental preparations. She was always amused by Joe and Tony's height difference: Joe was just under six feet tall, while Tony was Nancy's own height, 5'6.

"Hi, Nancy!" Iola left Joe and Tony by the entrance and rushed over with a big smile, throwing her arms around Nancy in a bear hug. Nancy returned Iola's enthusiasm. They'd had a special bond since Nancy had helped with Iola's crisis a couple of weeks ago, not that Iola had been standoffish previous to that. Nancy still couldn't quite believe that she had found a group of friends that welcomed her with such open arms, literally and figuratively.

It was a small arcade, and they completed the tour for Nancy in a couple of minutes. It wasn't too crowded, as it was a school night. "So there aren't many options for four players," Iola said, glancing around. "Fooseball? Girls against guys?"

At any other time, Nancy would have thought it was a great idea; however, tonight she had a mission. If Joe and Iola could have some time together, they might be able to talk things out, and it might give Joe some closure or resolution about his feelings. All Nancy had to do tonight was keep Tony distracted.

"Actually, I like these two air hockey tables side by side," Nancy said, heading over. They were about fifteen feet apart, giving Iola and Joe an opportunity for private conversation even while all four of them were together as a group. "I haven't been defeated in air hockey in three years, and I challenge Tony."

Nancy didn't see the smug looks that the guys shared behind her back.

"Uh, okay, Nancy," Iola said, but grinned good-naturedly and walked to the other table with Joe.

"Highway robbery," Nancy muttered, putting three of her quarters next to three of Tony's to pay the $1.50 fee.

"Such old-fashioned expressions," Tony said. "My nonna says that all the time."

Nancy headed to her position, aligning her paddle in the center of the goal. She risked a quick glance over to make sure that Joe and Iola were doing okay. She heard a sharp click and clunk.

Nancy frowned and looked down. The puck had teleported into her goal. She would have to focus more on keeping Tony preoccupied. Twelve seconds later, there was another click and clunk into her goal.

She would have to stop going easy on him.

Seventeen seconds later, Tony scored his third point. Nancy told herself later that she possibly would have remained calm if she hadn't looked up and seen Tony's wicked, self-satisfied grin.

"Asshole!" Nancy shrieked. "This game is rigged!" She inspected the table, the slipperiness of the puck, the strength of the air coming out of the holes, took a rough measurement of her goal, and headed to Tony's end of the table to make sure his goal was the same length across. Hannah had told her many times that she would never be known for graceful losing.

Tony lifted both hands like he was surrendering. "Search me. But no worries, Champ. You haven't lost a game in three years."

Nancy glared and pointed a warning finger at him. She headed back to her end of the table and lost another point. Finally she took two deep breaths, calmed down, and scored two points back to back. She lost the game 3 to 7.

Tony walked over to Joe for a high five and various gloating noises. It made Nancy so frustrated that she stomped her foot in a very immature gesture.

"I feel powerful now, pulling that reaction out of you," Tony said, heading back to take position. "That foot stomp is what I'll be working for from now on."

She lost the next game 4 to 7.

"You're the real winner, Nancy," Iola called to her. "Tony is such a loser that he has nothing to do but practice for thousands of hours."

"That's pretty good, actually," Joe chimed in. "He usually shuts people out."

The third game was back to 3 to 7. "Let's play something else. I'm running out of quarters," Nancy lied and growled at the same time. If only she could wipe that smile off his face.

Nancy suddenly remembered her task for the afternoon. She turned to Joe and Iola, happy to see that they were concentrated only on their game and each other. She would have to find another game that groups of people couldn't play and that was boring enough to make Iola and Joe not want to come over and watch. "I always love the pinball machines," she declared, heading over to the back corner.

Tony followed. "Said absolutely no one ever."

Nancy inserted a quarter and waited for instructions. A carnival song began to play, but there were no further hints of what to do. "What now? Oh. We push this lever."

"Yeah, you're sure a pro at this." Tony taught her how to pull the plunger, which she did with much too much force. They watched as the ball slid into the drain.

Nancy looked at him. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Tony gaped at her and then laughed, shaking his head. "You press these two buttons on the sides to move the flippers. The goal is to keep the ball _up_, _stunad_."

"I have a feeling that is an Italian word, in which case, I know more Italian than I thought. Come on, you take the left button and I'll take the right."

They stood side by side, shoulders touching. Nancy played spectacularly lousy and Tony provided negative commentary.

"Now you think I suck at games," Nancy said sulkily. "You should see me play Jenga sometime. Hannah said that gravity forgets to work when I play that game."

"Sure," Tony said. "And I know that you're good at things. I can't skate at all and you were tearing up the rink the night we first met. Callie said that a person that content and confident to be by themselves deserves a good group of friends. That's why she joined you."

"Wow," Nancy said, pleased by Callie's compliment. She thought about how ironic it was that people want to be around someone who is good at being alone.

Joe and Iola joined them. Nancy realized with a start that she'd forgotten they were there. But that was a good thing; all she could give Joe and Iola was time. She couldn't interfere with relationships.

"We are totally out of money," Joe said. "Where to next?"

Nancy looked from Joe to Iola and smiled. They both looked like they were having a good time.

"I'm getting hungry," Tony said. "I can think of an awesome place with free pizza."

Iola seemed to consider it. "But you know your mom will make us wash the dishes, Tony. Let me see if my mom lets me stay out for dinner." She took out her phone and her eyes lit up. "Check your texts," she said to Joe.

Joe complied while Iola explained. "The Life Scouts and the troop leaders finished their Scouts Retreat planning meeting earlier than they thought. They made way too much spaghetti so they're opening it up to more people until the food runs out."

Joe's expression had frozen a bit, and he now appeared subdued. "Phil can get Iola in, and Frank and I can easily get you two in," he said to Nancy and Tony. Tony wasn't a Scout.

"No—no," Nancy said, thinking quickly. Their night had come to an early end, but at least Joe could walk Iola to the fire hall in privacy. If Nancy went home by herself, Tony would go with Joe and Iola. "I want to try some of this famous pizza that I keep hearing about. My dad isn't expecting me home until 7:30. You two go on without us."

Iola gave her a strange look. Joe glanced at Tony. There were a couple of more vague protestations, but a minute later Nancy had her final moment of satisfaction, watching Joe and Iola walk together further inland.

And then Nancy realized that she was alone with Tony. She suddenly felt awkward.

"Umm…I'll follow you, I guess," she said. "We always get delivery so I don't even know where your pizzeria is."

Tony walked toward the bike rack. Nancy followed, unsure.

"I rode my wheels here," he said, extracting his black mountain bike from the rack. He mounted it and raised his eyebrows at her. "Well. Hop on."

"Like…on the handlebars?" Nancy was reminded of every inch of her five-and-a-half-foot gangly frame.

"No. On my shoulders." One corner of his mouth lifted.

Nancy's previous frustrations returned to her. "If I _never_ have to see your smirk again!"

"Turn around and hop on and you won't have to!"

"I hate you." Nancy turned around and slowly backed up over his front wheel, thinking that her butt was much too bony to be able to sit on metal at that angle. She did an awkward little hop up and abruptly she was moving forward; her butt hung slightly _over_ the handlebars, and she didn't know how Tony could possibly see where he was going. She was quite aware of his hands and arms against the sides of her thighs as he held onto the handlebars.

"I wasn't ready!" she protested.

"Needed momentum," he responded, and Nancy quieted to give him a chance to focus. She worried that her feet would get caught in the spokes.

They were at a nice speed now, along the side of Shore Road. "Don't overthink it," Tony said. They continued to go faster.

"Please—can we just go fast enough so we don't fall over?" Nancy asked. They slowed down. She waited for a teasing remark that never came. She saw neon Mr. Pizza lights grow larger as they approached, and the dismount was much easier than Nancy had feared. The sun was beginning to set.

Nancy could hear a stream of very loud, heated Italian even through the closed door.

"Wait!" she squeaked. "Is that your mom? I don't want to meet her when she's mad."

"Oh, she's not mad," Tony said. "That's her inside voice."

"What's she saying?"

"I don't know. We ask her not to translate most of what she says because it probably isn't anything good," Tony replied. "She spent her very earliest years in Sicily, my dad didn't, and so we all know different amounts of Italian. I tend to focus on the swear words and insults."

Nancy followed him through the door of the small family-owned pizzeria with some trepidation. A couple of customers were standing at the counter, and Nancy assumed that they were waiting for pick up. Nancy counted only seven booths. They kept walking back into the kitchen. "What kind do you want?" Tony asked as he opened the pizza warmer. He assessed the options and reached for sausage and pepperoni.

"Antonio! Use the brain cells!" A short, plump woman, younger than Nancy expected, appeared behind them. "You take what kind we have the _most_ of."

"Mom, this is Nancy," Tony said.

Nancy smiled in greeting, but her smile froze when she saw Mrs. Prito's expression.

"Yes, I see why you bring her to me," Mrs. Prito said. She scanned Nancy's thin figure in dissatisfaction. "This is an emergency. The poor girl is starving. What kind do you want?"

"Um, one slice of green pepper, please," Nancy stammered.

Mrs. Prito slid three slices of green pepper pizza into the oven along with a side of mozzarella sticks. She selected Tony's pizza for him and put it into the oven, then returned her focus to her customers' orders. Nancy wondered how she could possibly be overweight with how fast and continuously she worked.

"Nice of you to join us for the rush hour, Tony. Well, it would be if you were actually helping." An older version of Tony, several inches taller and with closer cropped hair, spun a circle of pizza dough into the air. Nancy watched, mesmerized, until the circle was big enough to return to the counter.

"My parents found this guy rooting through our dumpster a few weeks ago. They take on homeless projects," Tony said with a straight face.

"Michael. I'm his brother," the young man corrected, and Nancy introduced herself in return.

"My cousin Freddie is washing the dishes in the back, and my cousins Maria and Connie are making food on the counter over there," Tony said, gesturing, and gathered his and Nancy's food out of the oven. "Over eighty percent of our business is takeout, which is why he's talking about rush hour when there's barely anyone here."

"Freddie! Leave the dishes for Tony and his skinny friend. Start on the next order," Mrs. Prito yelled across the kitchen. Nancy's teeth nearly vibrated at the volume.

Nancy followed Tony back to a booth and sat down. Tony went back in the kitchen for a couple of drinks, then re-emerged and sat across from her. "So where's your dad?" Nancy asked.

"He's managing Prito Construction. My entire huge family owns the construction company together, so management will pass to one of my uncles or cousins in a year or two. The crew should be finishing up right now because the sun's going down. He'll go home or come here." Tony bit off a huge bite.

"Wow. _Two_ family businesses," Nancy said with respect.

Tony attempted a smile but his mouth was too full.

"And your mom is so young and pretty," Nancy continued. She wasn't in the habit of piling on compliments, but sometimes spoke her mind in a stream of consciousness way.

Tony swallowed. "Hard to think of my mom that way, but thanks. She was seventeen when she had my brother, dropped out of school and eventually took over this pizza parlor. It's been in the family since the 1930s. Michael is twenty now. My parents do well, but they work really hard. They want my brother and me to go to college. Michael doesn't want to go and he and my mom fight all the time about it. My parents told me that if I get a girl pregnant in high school, I am totally on my own. I don't think that they would exactly do that, but I understand that it would break everybody's hearts if I did."

Nancy squirmed. She desperately wanted a change in topic, and therefore she could think of nothing to say.

Tony seemed to sense her discomfort. "So what's your story?" he asked.

"You know my story," Nancy said, taking a sip of Sprite.

"Only the facts. Tell me what's important to you," Tony said. "What do you want? What makes you excited?"

Nancy paused. "You'll laugh."

"Nope," Tony said.

"I want…" Nancy leaned back. "I want something exciting to happen, and to take part in it, and to be on the good guys' team. I want adventure and a puzzle to figure out, and to know that the world is a better place because I helped something good happen and…something bad _not_ happen. And then write books about all the exciting things, hundreds of books, _bestselling_ books! Everything's better when it's bestselling."

"Done," Tony said, his eyes steady on hers. "One more year and Frank and Joe's dad is letting them help him with cases, which means that we will _all_ be helping."

"I know, and that's good, but a year feels like forever. Bayport has been nice to me so far, but-" Nancy lowered her voice for effect, not because anyone was around to overhear—"aren't there any criminals around here?"

"Sure," Tony replied. "Not many of the exciting kind, though. But in the 1950s, there was a big mafia presence in Bayport."

Nancy's eyes lit up.

"See our biggest table over there?" Tony pointed to the back corner farthest from the front door. "That's where Nicky Scardo met with his family members and…dispatchers…to discuss upcoming plans. What problems were going on, how they would solve those problems, and, once in a while, who would be swimming with the fishies."

Nancy stared at the table in the corner in wide-eyed awe.

"The whole town knew not to sit at that table," Tony continued. "And I have a great-uncle in the witness protection program."

"What?" Nancy's jaw fell open. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, because he's in the witness protection program," Tony said logically. "Everybody got busted in the 70s."

"Wow. And you're sure _all_ the mafia members are gone now?" Nancy said wistfully.

Tony beckoned her closer. "It's like the Last of the Mohicans," he said into her ear. "It's a lonely road to walk, but I am the only one left standing."

Nancy laughed. The final, sharp rays of the setting sun were falling across Tony's face, causing him to squint. She thought with jealousy that his olive skin would be forever smooth and acne-resistant. His brother Michael had short curls, close and snug next to his head, but Tony had allowed his black curls to grow and spill around his ears and almost down to his neck in the back. "Let's see how long your hair really is," she said, taking his frontmost curl between two fingers and gently pulling it down until it was completely straight.

"Hi Tony, Nancy," a familiar voice said, and Nancy dropped her hand and looked up at Mrs. Hardy. They exchanged greetings with her. Mrs. Hardy paid for her takeout, chatting briefly with Tony's family, and returned to their table a couple of minutes later with a bag of food.

"Mr. Hardy and I are finally having dinner by ourselves tonight, since the boys are at the Scouts dinner. I'm not picking them up until 7:30." Mrs. Hardy looked at Tony, then Nancy, and Nancy felt like they were being assessed. Maybe this was where Frank got the ability from.

"I loved Pride and Prejudice and-" Nancy remembered just in time not to tell Mrs. Hardy that she'd read Northhanger Abbey, as it would reveal that she'd been near the school gym when Mrs. Hardy had asked her not to be—"and I got Emma from the library last night. Emma's matchmaking is going nicely. She is so insightful and caring, always watching out for everybody else's wellbeing."

"Keep reading," Mrs. Hardy said.

"Congratulations on your book coming out in November, Mrs. Hardy," Tony said, squinting up at her. "So you're going to a lot of book signings, right? Is there any way that Nancy can help you at some of them?"

Nancy choked on her soda. She felt like the happiness of the rest of her life depended on Mrs. Hardy's favorable answer.

"You're a good friend, Tony," Mrs. Hardy commented when Nancy had recovered. "I would love the help, Nancy, but there are significant scheduling barriers. Most of the book signings require travel during school days, but I'll double check my schedule when the time gets closer and I'll call your father directly."

Nancy trembled with excitement. "That would be—_please_, I'll take whatever you can give me. I'll be good, though, I won't check the schedule on your website and I won't beg my dad to let me skip school, just, please, I would be the best helper you've ever had."

"I have no doubt of that," Mrs. Hardy said, her eyes twinkling. She took one last, lingering look between Tony and Nancy, then left.

"Still so crazy, how I know an _author_ now," Nancy said reverentially. "You will never know how grateful I am, Tony, that you thought to ask her that. My life will finally begin on the day that I am sitting next to her at that table. I'm not going to let any mooches waste her time, those cheap hustlers who'll try to meet her without buying a book first. Maybe I can flip the pages for her if she reads a chapter to the masses."

"Tony! Dishes!" Mrs. Prito hollered from the kitchen.

"Are you done?" Tony asked, and, when Nancy nodded, he shoved their leftovers deeply into the trash can behind him. "You would have been in big trouble for not finishing your food," he added, standing.

"Thank you for hiding my evidence. Tony—" Nancy stood up and put a hand on his upper arm, stopping him. "Real quick. Teach me some Italian words so I can impress your mom when we go in there. _Not_ bad words."

Tony looked at her in mock confusion. "No, no. You do not need to need to know any words to speak Italian. We speak with our hands. This means 'You are a disgrace.'" He pressed his second and third fingers against his thumb and slowly flicked his wrist back and forth.

Nancy grinned, intrigued, and attempted to mimic the movements.

"And this means 'Not tonight, baby.'" He grimaced and held the back of his hand against his forehead as if he had a headache. "Although it's pretty stupid of me to teach you that one, right?"

Nancy flicked him in the shoulder playfully. Tony had time to teach her two threats of bodily harm before his mother shouted louder.

They headed to the sink and washed their hands. Nancy simply smiled at Mrs. Prito, since none of the Italian-without-words she had just learned would impress Tony's mom just yet.

"It's the end of the night, so we have to do the regular dishes, the pots, the pans, the sharp stuff, everything. So be careful," Tony said. They put on hats and aprons and Tony tossed Nancy a few towels. "I'll wash and you can dry."

Cousin Freddie snorted.

The spray from the water pressure at the industrial sink made it too loud to sustain conversation. Their hands touched as Tony transferred the plates and utensils to Nancy. Her skin felt pleasantly moist with warm water and some leftover suds.

A few minutes later, a very cheerful, giggling young blonde arrived to pick up her takeout. Michael went to the register and his cousins seamlessly took over his food orders for him. He took an extraordinarily long time completing his customer service interaction.

Tony leaned in quite close to Nancy so she could hear him over the kitchen noises. "Iola's cousin Polly," he explained. "I can't go over there and embarrass Michael tonight, or he would embarrass me in front of you."

Nancy grinned and returned to her tasks. She heard the bell over the door that signaled that Polly had left. Nancy and Tony kept up a steady pace of fast work, and Nancy thought that they made a good team together. A construction paper sign was posted over the sink, written in crayon in a child's handwriting: "A little less conversation, a little more sanitation."

"Nancy," Tony said eventually. "It's 7:20."

Nancy frowned in confusion. It took a moment to register that she'd told her dad and stepmom that she'd be home at 7:30. "Oh," she said. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"You need to get home? Tony and I will take you," Michael said. He threw his gloves away and took his car keys off a hook. Mrs. Prito packed several slices of pizza into a Ziploc bag, despite Nancy's protestations. Mrs. Prito enveloped Nancy into a firm hug before she left, and Nancy wished she could have stayed in her arms for just a moment longer.

Michael, Tony, and Nancy took off their hats and aprons and headed outside in the darkness to Michael's white Prito Construction pickup truck. Nancy was grateful that Tony squeezed himself between her and his brother in the bench seat. Nancy gave Michael her street address and they rode the short distance to her house in silence, windows down, the air noticeably cooler than it had been only a week ago. Nancy thought it was a beautiful night.

"Nancy," Tony said after they had pulled into her driveway.

She turned to him.

"This is the first time anyone has ever dried our dishes at the end of the night," Tony said. "There's something called evaporation."

It took her a moment to realize the implication. "So you had me do all that work for _nothing_," she giggled, and shoved his shoulder on her way out of the truck.

"Night," Tony said, and Michael saluted to her from the driver's seat.

"Night," she returned. She paused for a fraction of a second and then shut the pickup door. She waved once more when she stood in her front door, then peeked through the blinds and watched the pickup exit her driveway and go back the way it came.

"Hi, honey," her father's voice called from the dining room, along with a cheery "hey-hey!" from her stepmother. "How was your game night?" Griselda added.

"Good," Nancy answered simply, the universal all-encompassing teenage answer. She put the pizza in the fridge and ran up the stairs.

She looked around her room, feeling wistful. She was happy, yet disappointed that the night had abruptly ended. For a reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, she wanted a shower even though she didn't feel dirty.

Nancy stood under the nozzle for a very long time. The water felt just slightly too hot, yet she turned it up hotter. Her skin felt strangely sensitive. She looked down at her body. Would it ever stop changing? It felt like it didn't belong to her sometimes, like it was a strange attachment that only followed orders half the time. Various flashbacks returned to her from the night: Tony's hands against her thighs as she rode on his bike, stretching his front curl taut, his fingers transferring warm water onto hers. She soaped herself twice just to feel her hands gently rubbing her skin.

It wasn't until Nancy was in her robe, toweling her hair dry, that she remembered her mission.

She leaped for her laptop. The odds were miniscule that something had happened between Joe and Iola, even more miniscule that she would be informed about it so soon, but there was a chance.

Nancy skimmed over the spam and saw just the names she'd been hoping for. She clapped her hands in delight and opened the messages.

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Callie Shaw]**

**9/19/18 7:42 p.m.**

**Re: OMG!**

**Nancy—**

**So Iola texted me about the sexual chemistry you and Tony had at the arcade, and then Iola heard that Frank and Joe's mom was ordering takeout from Mr. Pizza tonight, so I ordered Iola to order Phil to order Frank to ask his mom how you and Tony looked…and Mrs. Hardy said that you and Tony looked like you were having "a very nice time." A very nice time!? What does that mean, OMG! How long have you had the hots for Tony and not told anyone, missy? You are in SO much trouble! I know this is going to sound nuts, but I kind of thought you liked Frank. Boy, I was way off. Callie**

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Iola Morton]**

**9/19/18 7:48 p.m.**

**RE: !**

**Nancy,**

**I just got home and I am DYING to hear the details. My cousin Polly said that she heard from Michael Prito—and sort-of saw with her own eyes—that you and Tony were giggling and gazing at each other all night at the pizzeria like you wouldn't have noticed if the roof had fallen in. Why didn't you tell me that this group outing you prepared was just so that you could get Tony alone? I feel so bad—I could have gotten out of there way sooner, and found a way to get rid of Joe, too! Did you let Tony put his hands all over you? Love, Iola**

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Vanessa Bender]**

**9/19/18 7:51 p.m.**

**Re: Slutty Behavior**

**Nancy,**

**Callie told me that she was going to email you and scold you on behalf of all of us, but this new piece of information I just heard cannot wait until school tomorrow. The girl who sits next to me in third period just texted me that she saw you and Tony riding on his bike down Shore Road while you were sitting backwards on his handlebars, making out while pedaling into oncoming traffic. Is this true? I never thought you had it in you, girl! xoxo Van**

Nancy's hands were shaking by the time she finished reading her emails. Callie's remark about Frank had also unnerved her. How had things gotten so out of hand so quickly? And Tony would freak out when he heard about it in school tomorrow. She had to get to him before all the guys got to him first with their teasing. She found his name in the most recent group email, added it to her email contacts, and sent an email before she could overthink it and delete the whole thing.

**To: [Tony Prito]**

**From: [Nancy Drew]**

**9/19/18 8:09 p.m.**

**Re: ROTFLOL**

**OMG I am so sorry about these gross rumors flying around about you and me…I swear I didn't start them. Lame pinball machines and kitchen chores are so not my idea of a date! I will work hard on my end and tell everybody that we are just friends, you do the same on your end and these bored people will find something else to talk about in a couple of days. In the meantime we won't talk too much or hang out together until all the ridiculousness dies down. **** Nancy**

Nancy disconnected from wifi and put her phone on silent mode as if those things would help the entire situation to stop. She had to do something. She grabbed her copy of Emma and forced herself to read. Maybe Emma's successful matchmaking would give Nancy some advice on how to clean up her own disastrous efforts.

Well past midnight, Nancy flung her copy of Emma across the room. After only a few more pages, Emma's efforts at matchmaking had blown up in her face, also losing her the respect of various people in her life. Emma had married the correct man in the end, of course, but only by the skin of her teeth. Nancy felt a hard pit in her stomach at the thought of facing everyone at school tomorrow. Well, Emma was just a work of fiction; maybe Nancy's real life matchmaking efforts had gone a little better. Maybe something had happened between Iola and Joe, despite whatever mess was going on with herself and Tony.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: The reviews from the last chapter were especially fun to read. I love that there were such different interpretations, emotional reactions, and predictions. Thanks for reading and dropping me a line. JB_

Nancy woke up quite groggy and sleep-deprived the next morning. She forced herself to go through the motions of getting ready for school. After she had showered and dressed, she cringed as she turned on the wifi and checked her email; several more gossipy emails from the girls, but nothing from Tony. He hadn't called her, either.

The doorbell rang and Nancy glanced at her clock in confusion. It was only a little past 7:30 and school didn't start until 8:15. Griselda answered it.

"Hi, Mrs. Drew," a too-cheerful voice said from her front door. Nancy stood at the top of the stairs and a chill passed through her when she saw the determined glint in Callie's eyes.

"Callie?" Carson stood up from the breakfast table. "Join us, we're just sitting down."

"Oh, I already ate," Callie said smoothly. "But you three go ahead. I was concerned about Nancy last night, since she wasn't returning emails or picking up her phone. I'm so relieved to see that it was just a lot of unlucky technology problems at once."

Nancy knew that she would never be able to eat while Callie watched her, waiting to collect her pound of flesh. "I'm not hungry, Dad. Callie and I can walk to school now. Bye!" she said, grabbing her backpack and making a futile attempt to rush out the door. Eventually she compromised on breakfast with her dad and he put some fruit and granola in her backpack for later.

Nancy and Callie headed toward school. "Oh my god, you and Tony!" Callie squealed, briefly squeezing Nancy's closer elbow. "Before we discuss last night, however, we have to get your scolding out of the way. You seriously didn't tell _anybody_ that you were into him? I can't believe I couldn't tell! I usually have a pretty good read on these things. Listen, though, in a moment of seriousness, Tony has a temper sometimes, but he has a good heart. You can trust him."

"Callie-" Callie was so excited that Nancy hated to have to steer the conversation in a totally different direction. "Last night was…I feel like you heard some exaggerated reports. It was the four of us, and then Joe and Iola had to leave, so Tony and I got a slice of pizza. That's all."

"You don't like Tony?"

"No?" Nancy asked uncertainly.

Callie stopped walking and grasped Nancy's wrist. "What?" she said, sounding genuinely confused. "Iola gave me a full play-by-play of last night. How you didn't want to play any four-player games, just grabbed Tony and went off by yourselves to laugh and joke. Plus this lame excuse that you didn't want to go to the Scouts dinner because you wanted to try Tony's pizza, when your stepmom orders from there constantly? Why did you want to be alone with him all night?"

"It's just…" Nancy felt tired, weak, and miserable. Looking into Callie's focused expression, she knew that all of the far-fetched excuses she'd concocted would be an insult to Callie's intelligence.

"What aren't you telling me?" Callie asked. "Seriously, Nancy, you need to tell me now. While we're alone."

Nancy squirmed, feeling every bit like a naughty child caught misbehaving. "Joe looks tortured half the time…I thought that if he and Iola had some time to themselves, it would be a no-stress hang out, and maybe they could…have a conversation."

"Oh my god!" Callie's eyes became so wide that Nancy worried they wouldn't stay in her head. "Oh my _god!_ You were trying to break up Iola and Phil!"

"No!" Nancy protested. "I wanted to—just make things a little easier for Joe! I just thought they could _talk_."

"So you wanted Joe to disrespect the girl he likes _and_ his brother's best friend…which would really come between Joe and Frank's relationship, by the way…and then what, we all live happily ever after with a rift like that? You wanted to torture Joe for an afternoon, reminding him of what he can't have? Those two did have a good time at the arcade, by the way, but spent half the time talking about what was going on with you and Tony. Thank goodness Joe could resist all that temptation and nothing _else_ happened between him and Iola." Callie roughly raked a hand through her hair. "And you don't even know the full hornet's nest. Vanessa likes Joe."

Nancy gasped. "Oh."

"And no, we will _not_ be setting up the two of them. Vanessa thinks more of herself than to want to date a guy who is hung up on somebody else. And, by the way, I don't think Joe will be as grateful toward you as you're hoping for, since you just royally messed with his best friend. We've got to think." Callie plopped her bookbag on the sidewalk.

For a brief moment, Nancy seriously considered running back to her house and locking herself in her bedroom. She forced herself to stay, imagining to herself that her feet were in cement. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "This is my first time hanging out with guys. It was always me and two girls growing up."

"Oh, Nancy. I'm sorry too." Callie clasped Nancy's hands. Nancy had always appreciated how open Callie was in showing affection. "I do believe that you were trying to help and just didn't think it through. Our game plan will be…that you had a very good time hanging out with Tony last night—true?"

"True," Nancy said.

"And that you just wanted to become better friends with Tony." Callie shrugged. "And we will have to keep this matchmaking business a secret just between us. And keeping a juicy secret will _kill_ me, by the way, and you will have to explain to everyone at my funeral just how I died."

"Thank you," Nancy said in infinite gratitude, with another heaping of apologies.

They managed to steer the conversation onto other topics for the rest of the walk to school, arriving quite early to homeroom. Nancy quizzed Callie a bit to prepare for the French quiz. It was hard to believe that things like the French quiz and general life were still going on around them, even while Nancy's life fell apart.

_Tony_. His name brought up such a swirl of confusion and ambiguity within her that she once more shoved his name into the back recesses of her subconscious.

"Good, you guys are here already," Joe said, striding into homeroom with purpose. Frank and Iola trailed him. "Phil and Van aren't here yet. I got a text from Tony's brother Michael a half hour ago. Tony never came down for breakfast. They checked and he wasn't in his room, but his phone was. He didn't show up at my house to walk to school together. He's missing."

Nancy felt the shock of his words slowly sink in as everyone took a seat, forming a tight circle in the back corner of the room. The room was slowly beginning to fill with other students.

"Michael guessed that you were the last person outside of the family to see him," Joe said, his gaze straying toward Nancy. "I was the last person who spoke to him. Tony called me when he was alone, after they took you home, and told me about your date. He was…excited, nervous. I've never heard him sound like that."

Nancy's breath caught. This was the first report she'd heard about Tony's interpretation of their evening together; all of the other reports had been based on gossip and other people's opinions. It took her a moment to realize that all eyes were on her. She swallowed. "I'm…all I did afterwards was send him an email that he never responded to. To confirm that he and I are just friends."

Callie had been right. The look on Joe's face was definitely not one of gratitude.

"You were _toying_ with him last night?" Joe almost shouted.

"Nancy wanted to get to know Tony as friends. She didn't know he would take it the wrong way," Callie snapped. "Does Nancy have to decide who she wants to marry after one non-date?"

"You didn't see them together," Joe shot back. He turned to Iola. "Am I right? We were both talking about it."

Iola's mouth opened slightly and she leaned back, obviously unhappy to be on the spot. She glanced at Nancy.

"Don't comply with his idiot interrogation, Iola." Callie looked like an angry Tinkerbell. "This is between Tony and Nancy and our opinions make no difference."

Nancy felt the building pressure of hot tears around her eyes. She was not a pretty crier; she knew that if she cried, her face would break out in blotches and her breath would hitch, and the more she told herself not to cry, the more she felt it coming on.

"Don't sit there like the victim when you know what you did," Joe said to Nancy, and somehow she much preferred his yelling to his new, low voice.

"That's enough, Joe," Frank said with authority, speaking for the first time.

"She-" Joe began hotly.

"Text Michael and confirm that Tony's not at school and none of us know where he is," Frank said. "Tell him that we'll help however he wants us to. That's all we can do right now. Nancy, can I talk to you for a second?"

Joe pulled out his phone and complied.

"What do you have to say to Nancy that you can't say to all of us?" Callie asked.

Frank turned to her. "I wasn't there last night and I barely know what happened. I'm the most neutral person here so I might be able to help."

"I bet you have a certificate in peer mediation, too," Callie said.

"It's okay, Cal. Thank you so much," Nancy said softly to Callie, standing up to follow Frank. It had been very uncomfortable to watch Callie and Joe go back and forth, but Nancy knew she never would have survived Joe's wrath without a defender.

Soon she and Frank stood in the hallway, which was emptying before first period. Nancy looked at the floor, embarrassed, waiting for a lecture. But Frank started the conversation in a different direction.

"Sorry about that in there. You didn't deserve that," he said. "That must have been a shock to you, seeing what a hothead my brother can be. I know how to rein in Joe, but I've never been able to rein in Callie. That's quite impressive, by the way, earning her loyalty in such a short amount of time. She doesn't give it out easily."

"Thanks," Nancy mumbled, and then looked up at him. "You have to believe me, Frank, I wasn't trying to toy with Tony last night."

"I know," Frank said.

His words stunned her more than anything else. "How do you know?"

"I don't know you well _yet_, Nancy, but I've learned to trust my instincts." Frank leaned against a locker and put his hands in his pockets. "You're a dreamer. You have an innocence about you that finds adventure everywhere, even if you have to create it. People are attracted to that kind of energy. My guess is that you didn't realize the power you had over Tony last night. You think of yourself as a girl, not a young woman."

One tear had spilled down Nancy's cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with her palm. She wished that his compliments had come under better circumstances. "How do I fix it?" she almost whispered.

"Callie's right. This is between you and Tony, so you'll have to figure out how you feel about him and say it to him clearly. Tony is tough. He can handle your liking him or not liking him, but he will not be able to deal with mixed messages."

The bell rang. The last stragglers were hurrying toward first period.

"I don't like that Tony's missing," Frank said with a slow exhale. "I guess we should assume that he left his house very early this morning, or he would have been picked up last night for violating the 10:00 curfew. It's been a long time since he's done this. He went through a…mild destruction of property phase a couple of years ago that I don't want him to revert to. Tony has many good qualities, but that does not make him tame, Nancy. He would never hurt you, but who knows how he would act out."

"All this about a friendship email?" Nancy said hesitantly. "Are we sure that something else didn't happen, and-"

"We are _positive_ that Tony chose to disappear because he was upset about the situation with you," Frank said firmly. "This is what I'm talking about, Nancy. You need to own your power and decide what to do with it." He walked away to his tenth grade classroom.

Nancy entered her own classroom and cruised on autopilot the rest of the morning. She breezed through the French quiz, as she had gotten a head start in the subject at River Heights Middle School. She ate her banana and granola bar by herself in a back corner of the library during lunch period, as she couldn't find the stamina to pretend that everything was all right with her friends. If they were even her friends any more. She hoped that Tony was okay. She missed Bess and George.

Phil as Teacher's Assistant walked into class again at the beginning of afternoon Social Studies. Nancy giggled at the sight of him, her first smile of the day. At least one good thing had come out of all of this: she would be in the front row cheering if Phil and Iola got married and had ten kids.

Phil glanced at her strangely and cleared his throat. "Before I introduce the topic, I want to remind everyone to submit their Idea Prospectus to my email by 5:00 tomorrow night."

Nancy rolled her eyes. _Can we please delay this worthless assignment, sir? Say, by a couple hundred years?_ she thought.

Several heads turned sharply in her direction, mouths agape. She realized that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, quietly but quite audibly in a silent classroom.

Phil flushed with embarrassment, stuttering in his attempt to reply. Nancy hated herself even more. First she had betrayed him by trying to sabotage his relationship, and now she had humiliated him in front of her whole class when he had never been anything but nice to her. She was hungry and very tired, and her self-loathing had reached the point where her entire emotional system was revolting in self-defense.

Nancy quickly gathered her belongings and rushed out the classroom door. "Detention!" the teacher called after her.

Nancy made a beeline to the bathroom. With overwhelming gratitude that the bathroom was empty, she locked herself in a stall and cried, hitching sobs shaking her entire body. When she was finished, she had a mild headache but felt much better.

The bathroom door opened. "Is somebody named Nancy in here?" a girl's voice called.

"Yes," Nancy said, a post-crying quiver still in her voice.

"There's a hot geek in the hallway for you." The door closed.

Nancy picked up her backpack. She would have to face the consequences of her childish behavior yet again. What would she say to Phil?

She had another surprise when she left the bathroom and saw the apologetic look on Phil's face. "Nancy, I want you to know that I'm your TA now, so you can come talk to me about these things," he said.

Nancy looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"There's no reason to get so stressed out by your Idea Prospectus," Phil said. "All I need by tomorrow is a one page summary of an idea that you think would attract followers on social media. A Youtube channel, a website, a Twitter account, anything. I'm taking Iola to the diner tonight, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you tagged along for some tutoring. We can bounce ideas off each other."

"Phil," Nancy said, "you have a heart of gold. No, I don't need extra tutoring, and I'm going to blow you away with my Idea Prospectus. Enjoy your date tonight."

Phil stared quizzically at her. A text beeped and he pulled out his phone. "Oh, good news," he said. "Michael found Tony at one of their dad's demolition sites, blowing off steam. Everything's fine."

Nancy physically sagged with relief. Phil put his hands on Nancy's shoulders to steady her.

"Glad everything worked out," he said, releasing her. "Let me know if change your mind about that extra help, Nancy." He walked away to his class.

Before the end of the day, Nancy returned to her Social Studies teacher and apologized for her outburst. Nancy explained that she had been upset about something that had nothing to do with class and they agreed that she would serve her detention tomorrow with whichever teacher had the rotating duty that day.

Immediately after school, Nancy crawled into her bed, spent. She'd had to listen to the news about Tony from each of her friends and celebrate it over and over again—but only to a moderate degree, not overly enthusiastic or they might think that she was interested in him. High school social rules were exhausting. She fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke to a soft rap on her door. The sun was setting. "Nancy," Griselda said as she stuck her head in the door, "sorry, sweetie, but if I let you sleep any longer, you'll be up all night."

Nancy sat up and rubbed her eyes, vaguely annoyed by Griselda calling her sweetie. But it was partially her own fault. When Griselda had first become engaged to her father, she had asked Nancy for one term of endearment that she was allowed to call her. Nancy had selected "offspring" and Griselda had debated whether or not that word fit the definition of "term of endearment" until they had finally compromised on "sweetie."

"We can have dinner here in your room tonight, if you want," Griselda said, entering with takeout bags and pulling Nancy's desk chair next to the bed. She had long, straight black hair, with features that Nancy thought of as "pretty-ish" and skin that was just beginning to thin with age.

Nancy very much wanted to contradict to anything an adult had to say to her right now, but, unfortunately, she also very much wanted to have dinner right here in her bed. She eyed the takeout bags warily. "Please tell me that our food is not from…"

Griselda laughed. "No, I picked it up out of town." She helped to balance an Italian sub on Nancy's lap, one of Nancy's favorite comfort foods, and began to gather her own food.

"So you've read my mind, and you're never home this early. What do you know about my ruined life?" Nancy took a very large bite and realized she was famished. She ate ravenously.

"Mrs. Hardy called your father at work and told him that Joe was in a rage after school, something about you and Tony last night, and how the entire neighborhood will never speak to you again. She wasn't exactly sure what had happened but recommended that someone come home early from work to be with you." Griselda put her hand on Nancy's bed. "Your dad wanted to be able to come home and be with you, sweetie, he really, really did-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Nancy said automatically with her mouth full. She was so tired of being expected to comfort adults.

"But, if I may be so bold as to recommend myself," Griselda said, picking up half of her Chicken Caesar wrap, "I do have an entire _month's_ experience of being a stepmother, if you'd like to talk about it."

"A month is a very long time," Nancy said thoughtfully. Without warning she fixed her stepmother with her most intimidating glare. "But if you act like this isn't a big deal, or say that it will blow over tomorrow, or say that kids get over these things, like this will not affect the _entire_ rest of my life-"

Griselda crossed her heart.

Nancy sighed and put her food down. She'd eaten too fast. She told Griselda about how she'd tried to set up a nice moment between Joe and Iola and failed; each phase of the nice night she'd had with Tony; the email she'd sent to him afterwards; and the guilt and embarrassment of today, culminating in utter exhaustion and a fear of going to school tomorrow.

Griselda looked at her throughout the entire story, finishing her food, not interrupting with questions or even an uh-huh. When Nancy had finished, Griselda put both of their paper plates on Nancy's nightstand. She leaned in, her expression serious.

"So," she said. "Just to be perfectly clear. Tony did not do anything to you that you did not want him to do, or touch you in a way that you did not want to be touched."

"No—no. No," Nancy sputtered.

"All right. Then I'll wait for the rest of the story." Griselda leaned back in her chair and placed her folded hands in her lap.

"I just told you the story," Nancy said. "You weren't listening."

"I listened to every word. You've told me how you wanted Joe and Iola to make some kind of a connection, which didn't happen, but that it ending up being much better that they didn't; you've told me about how you learned your lesson and you will not meddle in other people's relationships again; you've told me about what a good friend Callie was, who not only knew the truth about what you were trying to do last night but promised to keep it a secret, and argued passionately in your defense in front of a group of people; and you've told me what a good time you had last night, and that Tony's friends believe that he's tough enough to be able to accept your romantic rejection if you communicate clearly with him from now on. According to what you've told me so far, the situation could be resolved with only one or two more conversations, yet here you are, still quite upset." Griselda smiled pleasantly. "Take your time. I have all the time in the world to wait for the rest of the story."

Nancy slapped a palm onto her bed. "Why did my dad have to marry another _lawyer_?" she shrieked.

"Better than a psychoanalyst, but with all the same perks." And, true to her word, Griselda waited.

Nancy eventually sighed. "Again—just so the rules are clear—you will not tell me that my books have nothing to do with real life."

"Agreed."

"It's just that the very first night, at the skating rink…Frank Hardy saved me from falling right away, and we had a moment that was sort of embarrassing for me, but then he made me feel better, and I just _felt_ something…then I happened to meet his friends—and his mom is the greatest author of all time, and his dad is a detective, like I want to be—and then I found out that he and Joe want to be detectives too, so the three of us could travel around the world someday, solving mysteries-it just seemed meant to be, you know? I feel weird whenever he's around or I think about him. And it's like he's perfect at everything he ever does. It's too much to even sit up straight anymore." Nancy lay down on her back in bed, pulling the covers up to her neck.

"Does Frank like you?" Griselda asked.

"I don't know. Probably not. He's never acted like he does. I'm not going to ask him, I would die if he gave me the 'let's be friends' speech." Nancy felt fresh guilt as she thought of how she'd done just that to Tony less than twenty-four hours ago. "Frank is nice, he'll go out of his way to speak to me, but there's something about him that's…I don't know, _professional_, like he's an adult already, so I can never quite figure out what he's thinking or feeling. Callie is right, he is so annoying."

"That was some nice praise that he gave you today," Griselda commented. "He told you to think of yourself as a young woman, not a girl, but he did not specify if _he_ thinks of you as a young woman or a girl."

"Exactly!"

"Hmmm." Griselda appeared to choose her words carefully. "I'm torn between which direction to take this conversation in. What I want to do is to tell you to take your time and that you don't have to be in a relationship with anybody and that this is your time to figure out who Nancy Drew is. But I had a boyfriend in ninth grade myself, and I don't want to cop out of giving advice about relationships."

It was Nancy's turn to wait out her stepmother.

"There's a boy that you like that likes you back…and then there's a boy that you're attracted to that you might sort of like if maybe you knew him better, but right now you have no idea what he's thinking or feeling," Griselda continued. "So you are deciding whether to give up the boy that likes you back in case one day Frank Hardy likes you or lets you know that he likes you? And you mentioned your books, so I'm guessing that some of them imply that everyone should be on the hunt for their one true soulmate."

Nancy felt a bit ridiculous with her problems framed in such a manner, but Griselda had not appeared ridiculing while delivering her feedback. "Sort of," she mumbled.

"There's a really hot guy that I work with," Griselda said.

Nancy sat up straight once more.

"With a wife and three kids at home." Griselda shrugged. "And I will be attracted to him until the day I die. I told your dad about it and he got me back by pointing out a woman who he thought had a nice figure."

"That is disgusting," Nancy said, appalled. "But…God did do a good job with Frank's appearance, yes, but it's more than that."

"I believe you. And people are frequently attracted to more than one person at a time. There does need to be a certain level of attraction in a relationship, yes, but beyond that, love is a _choice_, not just a feeling," Griselda said. "I am not your dad's first love, or maybe even his last love if I die first, or maybe even his one true love out of all of the billions of women on this planet. But we love each other now, and our relationship is not based on good feelings all the time but commitment. And trust. And respect."

Nancy looked down. Respect was exactly the word she'd used to downgrade Phil and Iola's relationship.

"Please don't think I'm trying to convince you to get into a relationship," Griselda continued. "There are many reasons why you might not want to get into a relationship. Maybe you want to focus on your girlfriends, or school, or hobbies, or you think Tony's taking this too seriously when you don't know him well either, or maybe you don't want to commit to just one boy, or you don't feel ready, or—my personal favorite—you don't entirely know who you are or what you want yet and you want to spend more time 'becoming Nancy.' I am only saying that the reason to avoid a relationship should _not_ be because you are waiting on a kinda sorta Prince Charming that you barely know who may or may not like you back in another six years. And I'm sure your Jane Austen heroines wouldn't wait around for a man, am I right?" Griselda winked at her.

Nancy had been carefully considering Griselda's advice until the final question; then her eyes lit up eagerly. "You know Jane?"

"Not well, unfortunately, and it's my loss," Griselda said. "If I read them at the same time that you do, can we talk about them?"

"Yes," Nancy said. "But you have to start with Pride and Prejudice, and then read them in the order of the lessons you need to learn at that time in your life."

Griselda laughed. "Agreed. And Mrs. Hardy asked me to pick up this book at the library for you, since she believes you're ready for it now." Griselda reached into the takeout bag and pulled out a copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen, laying it on Nancy's bed. "The back cover says that it debates the question of when to accept advice from well-meaning people who love you and when to simply trust your own instincts. I think you're ready for this topic, too, for what it's worth. I think you are more than capable of learning to use good discretion."

Nancy smiled at her. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."

Griselda put her hand on Nancy's knee. "And since we are talking about boys, should I ask your dad for permission to have a different kind of discussion with you? Your dad told me that he's always sent you to Sunday School and hoped you would wait for marriage. I disagree with that approach, but there's the respect thing we were talking about."

"I think I know where babies come from by now," Nancy said.

"It gets a lot more complicated, unfortunately. Let me know if you change your mind." Griselda squeezed her knee and left.

Nancy was pleased that her stepmother thought that she was capable of learning to use good discretion. Nancy looked up _discretion_ in the dictionary: "the quality of behaving or speaking in such a way as to avoid causing offense or revealing private information; the freedom to decide what should be done in a particular situation." She decided that she wanted to be the kind of person who used good discretion.

Nancy began to read her new book and enjoyed it. She called George and talked to her for forty-five minutes about everything but boys. When her father came home, she heard voices coming from downstairs, but he only came in to say goodnight and tell her that he was sorry she'd had a hard day. Nancy went to bed early and slept well.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you for the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites! Much appreciated, as always. JB_

Nancy woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. She ate a big breakfast and felt hopeful that some of this week's damage could be repaired.

She found herself excited and a little nervous to see Tony at school that morning. She hadn't planned a speech, but knew more of how she felt and the general direction she wanted to take the conversation. But when she went to homeroom, he wasn't there.

"His family assigned him a double shift between construction and the restaurant today," Joe explained to the group. He wouldn't look at Nancy or speak to her individually, but he wasn't attacking her, either. "They're either letting him blow off more steam, or they're working him to exhaustion to show him what his life will be like if he doesn't focus on school. The lesson would never work, though. Tony likes to work with his hands."

"This isn't the first time that Tony's played hooky," Callie said. "He's going to be in trouble with the school if they check his middle school records and figure out that he's not sick."

Iola passed Nancy a note on the way out of class.

**Joe's pride requires him to wait a few days before apologizing. Leave him alone and he'll come to you. Trust me, I know him quite, quite well. Iola**

Nancy smiled and followed the advice. Things were more or less returning to normal.

Callie hadn't done well on the French quiz. Vanessa asked about it between classes and said that she felt bad that the tutoring hadn't helped.

"It's not you, Van. I'm grateful for all the time you gave me. My brain just doesn't work that way," Callie said sullenly. "I have a good memory, but memorizing doesn't help when I can't figure out noun plus verb tense plus conjugation plus object of the preposition, or whatever? I can't even understand the grammar terms, so how can I apply them?"

"The teacher will assign you a tutor if you ask for one. Someone who teaches better than I do. I think you should do it now, at the beginning of the year, or you're just going to drown more and more," Vanessa said, and Nancy and Iola agreed.

"I'll think about it," Callie said.

Nancy walked into her Social Studies class after lunch and covered her mouth with her hands. She had completely forgotten about the social media Idea Prospectus that was due in Phil's email by 5:00 that afternoon.

"That detention you owe me will be held immediately after school at 3:30 today, Nancy. Forty-five minutes with Miss Swain, the English teacher," the Social Studies teacher said to her.

Nancy went to the library for her afternoon study hall. The internet was down, but she could still plug her flashdrive into the computer and draft a one-page idea for a website that she'd always dreamed of designing. She called it _Her Interactive_ and put an icon of a young woman bending over a magnifying glass at the top. Her social media following would be comprised of girls approximately her age, solving mini mysteries to hone their detective skills. _Her_ _Interactive_ followers would never be told that they were too young to do anything.

The final school bell rang, and all the other students ran out of the building while Nancy hurried to make her final touches. Somehow she felt that if she did a great job on this assignment, it would help her redeem herself for trying to ruin Phil's relationship with Iola two days ago. But she was due in detention now, so this would have to be her final draft. She saved the file as "Bestselling Idea" and arrived in detention just in time.

Only one other student was in the classroom waiting for the teacher with her, Biff, a huge boy almost a foot taller than her. She'd thought he was a teacher on the first day of school, but quickly re-assessed his age and maturity level when he'd begun to accumulate a spitball collection on his desk for later ammunition. "What're you in here for?" he asked her like they were in prison. His voice was so deep and scratchy that she wondered if he'd had gravel for lunch and washed it down with thumb tacks.

Nancy gazed at the ceiling, wanting to think of something good. "I crouched behind the principal's car while roller skating, holding on to the bumper while he drove to his mistress's house. I used a crowbar to—"

"I remember now, you mouthed off to Cohen and walked out of class yesterday. That was badass, Nancy," Biff commented, and Nancy felt pleased. She had never been called a badass before.

Miss Swain rushed in a few minutes late. Nancy did some mental calculations and realized it had been exactly two weeks since the date when Mrs. Hardy had intercepted Coach Hafetz and Miss Swain in the school gym at 4:00. Nancy wondered if the two teachers had been having an affair or if there really had been a package delivery. She wondered what Mrs. Hardy's involvement had been.

"I did not realize that I was on the detention schedule for today until one of my colleagues reminded me two minutes ago," Miss Swain said briskly, taking a seat behind her desk. "It would be nice if students behaved and there could have been no detention at all today. Mr. Hooper, no more whoopee cushions in the math teacher's desk chair, please. Your straight A average does not guarantee your position on the football team. These stupid little pranks could add up one day."

Nancy looked at Biff, unimpressed. "Seriously?" she said. Nevertheless, she was surprised that Biff's grades were that good.

"And you, Ms.—Drew," Miss Swain said, consulting her notes, "whatever you did, do not do it again."

Biff took out a textbook and completed homework for the next twenty minutes. He had small, neat cursive. He was dressed in a T-Shirt and sweat pants, evidently headed toward football practice immediately after detention.

Miss Swain glanced at the clock more and more often as time progressed. She had shoulder-length, frizzy blonde hair, and looked to be in her mid-thirties. There was something about her that Nancy didn't like, something cunning, but Nancy didn't know how much of her gut feeling was simply bias due to the note she'd seen passed from Coach Hafetz to Miss Swain on the roller skating night. Miss Swain was the eleventh and twelfth grade English teacher, so there wasn't much opportunity to keep an eye on her.

"I suppose I can you trust you both to be alone for five minutes, correct, Alan?" Miss Swain said.

"Sure," Biff said, not looking up.

Miss Swain rushed out of the room with her purse.

Nancy glanced at the clock. 3:57. The previous appointment to "slip the package" had been scheduled for 4:00 two Fridays ago. Were these ongoing packages small enough to fit in Miss Swain's purse? Nancy mentally berated herself. It had never occurred to her that the 4:00 Friday meeting might be a weekly occurrence.

Nancy stood up. Whatever she decided to do, it had to be right now.

"What is it?" Biff asked.

Nancy agonized over her decision, but ultimately decided that she could not realistically follow Miss Swain. There was almost no one left in the school—it was Friday afternoon, after all—and the hallways to the gym were long and silent. Miss Swain was sure to hear her.

There was nothing for it; she was at the mercy of this jock. "I'm going to search Miss Swain's desk," she said.

"No, you're not," Biff said dryly.

"I have a very good reason," Nancy said desperately. "I'll tell you all about it later, but she'll be back very soon. Please trust me."

Biff gave her a hard look. "All right," he decided. "And if I don't like your reason, I'm telling Miss Swain."

Nancy grabbed her phone and pulled up the camera app, then rushed over to the desk. The top drawer contained nothing but office supplies. Out of her peripheral vision she saw Biff move to the door to be a lookout. The top right drawer was all papers to be graded. Nancy only had time to skim them. The bottom right drawer was huge and filled with files that she had to quickly flip through individually.

"She's at the end of the hallway," Biff said in a low voice just as Nancy found a small folded piece of paper stuck between two horrifically boring-looking files toward the back. She motioned to Biff. He came over and read the note as Nancy took a picture of it.

**THIS HAS GOT TO END. LET'S MOVE ON TO PLAN B: THE PERMANENT SOLUTION.**

Nancy placed the note back where she'd found it and quietly shut the desk drawer. She and Biff slid into their desk chairs immediately before Miss Swain breezed back into the room.

Miss Swain appeared distracted but in a much better mood, almost pleased. Nancy didn't know much about sex but figured that Miss Swain and the Coach wouldn't have had enough time. Nancy carefully assessed Miss Swain's purse, but it didn't appear bulging or any different than it had five minutes ago. Miss Swain fiddled with her phone until detention was over at 4:15.

Biff and Nancy walked silently down the school hallway and outside toward the athletic fields for football practice. Biff stopped her when they were still isolated and began to stretch. "So how did you know to look for that note?" he asked. "You do realize that was written in my football coach's handwriting, right?"

She considered making up a story—after all, he'd still be in trouble for not telling on her to Miss Swain immediately—but she hadn't deserved his trust during detention, and so now he deserved the truth. Nancy didn't leave out anything, telling him all about the note passed from Coach to Miss Swain at the roller skating rink and all the way through to Mrs. Hardy following up. It wasn't a long story, so it didn't take long to tell.

Biff looked over Nancy's shoulder and she turned around in time to see Frank jogging toward them. Frank looked quizzically between them. "Hi, Biff. I didn't know you two were friends. Anyway, I heard you were in detention, Nancy, and I was about to come look for you. Joe texted me that the Pritos allowed Tony to attend his weekly karate class at the fire hall, and the class gets out at 5:00. Just…I'm not telling you what to do or what to decide, Nance, just wanted to let you know."

Nancy smiled. "Thanks. Yes, I want to talk to him." For the first time, she didn't feel unnerved by Frank Hardy's presence. She thought of something. "You take karate too, Frank. I guess you have to skip a lot of classes because of football practice?"

Frank paused. "This does not need to be discussed among the girls, but Tony is in the class above mine. My class meets on a different day."

Nancy checked her watch. 4:24. Her Bestselling Idea was due in Phil's email and the school internet was down; she would have to walk three-quarters of a mile home, quickly email the Word attachment, and race to the fire hall across town before Tony's class got out at 5:00. "I have to go," she said, adjusting her backpack straps. "Biff, can you bring Frank up to speed on the developments in our mystery?"

"What?" Frank asked.

But she couldn't wait for his reaction. She left the two guys and quickly headed toward home.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thank you for every review for the last chapter; I cherish each one and they keep me going! JB_

Nancy headed toward home at a fast pace. She couldn't quite run because of the books in her backpack. She let herself into her house, plugged her flashdrive into her laptop, and quickly attached the Microsoft Word file to an email before sending it to Phil. She was proud of her Bestselling Idea and hoped that Phil as Teacher's Assistant would be impressed by it, too.

Then she put her house key in her back pocket and ran toward the fire hall. She needn't have worried about the timing; karate class was running overtime anyway. She looked through a window and saw Tony among pairs of sparring students. He had a white karate uniform on, a purple belt, and red protective gear. Nancy stood mesmerized as she watched his lightning quick reflexes; he moved like a cat, like a blur, not at all intimidated that his opponent was four inches taller than him.

Class ended with final words and a bow. Nancy didn't expect Tony to grab his karate bag and immediately walk outside with all of his gear still on. He didn't see her and turned along the right side of the building. There was a shortcut through the trees to get back into the main town. He took off his head gear and mouth guard as he walked, dropping them into his bag.

"Wait! Tony, wait." Nancy rushed to catch up.

Tony turned toward her voice. His eyes darkened when he saw her.

She approached him. He was soaked in sweat, breathing heavily, and Nancy remembered that he'd been working demolition all day before karate. He must be exhausted.

Tony took off his gloves and crouched down to take off his foot protectors.

"I'm sorry that I sent you that email," Nancy said. "I wasn't thinking."

He looked up sharply at her.

"I sent it partly in self-defense," she continued. "I was giving you a lot of attention on our date, but it wasn't until the end of the night that I realized just what a good time I was having. I was pretty sure that you liked me back, but all that instant gossip about us freaked me out and made me feel pressured, so I was afraid that you would be freaked out, too. But then I figured out that you really liked me a whole lot when you, you know, went on a disappearing rage yesterday." Nancy gave him a small smile.

Tony packed his gear into his bag, then shouldered the bag and beckoned her toward privacy behind the fire hall, surrounded by trees. Nancy followed.

He dropped his bag once more. "God," Tony said. Nancy saw a variety of emotions flicker across his features: anger, hurt, a new tentative vulnerability. "When I thought you were playing games, acting like I'd imagined the whole thing…disrespect is a big deal to Italians, Nancy."

"You didn't imagine it," Nancy said. "I like you and I'm sorry I hurt you. So please don't send the mafia after me."

His eyes searched hers. "Maybe I'll move your name further toward the bottom of the hit list. After you tell me the other reasons why you gave me the friendship talk."

"Only one other reason," Nancy said. "I guess I was expecting relationships to be…perfect or something, like it doesn't count unless I know _exactly_ how I feel about somebody the first time I meet them, marriage and everything, and if don't ever feel attracted to anybody else."

"Who else do you feel attracted to?"

"Frank," Nancy muttered. "But not a fun kind of attraction, like when I was with you."

"I'll kick his ass," Tony said, but his tone was mild. His expression had softened. "Well, we're even then. I think Vanessa has a terrific rear view."

Nancy craned her neck to look down behind her. "What's wrong with mine?"

"My mom will make sure it fills out nicely." Tony smiled at her and Nancy's pulse quickened. "So you're saying that you like me right now," he continued. "And you're going to tell me if you don't feel that way later. I'm not asking you to decide about forever, Nancy."

"Yes, I'm saying that I like you right now," Nancy said.

He took a few steps closer toward her. Nancy could certainly smell him, but somehow it wasn't repulsive to her; it added to the energy that seemed to always emanate from him. His curls were drooping with sweat. Nancy closed the rest of the distance between them.

Tony put his hands on her upper arms. She laid her hands flat on his chest, leaned in, and kissed him.

Tony stilled and then began to slowly respond. Their mouths opened and neither of them had any idea what they were doing. Nancy felt awkward but was glad that he had obviously never done this with anyone else. She figured that their tongues were supposed to kind of curl around to the side, not just dart in and out, and she attempted to guide him.

Nancy snuggled more closely against him, pressing her body against his. She pulled back suddenly, startled.

"It's just a part of me, Nance," Tony said, his eyes questioning if they could continue. "Just means my body likes you too." But he made sure to keep his hips far enough back that she wouldn't feel it again. Their mouths resumed their previous activities. Nancy vaguely heard the sound of running pipes around the corner of the fire hall.

They were a bit more on rhythm this time, slowly figuring it out. Nancy's body was warm and tingling, especially the parts that had changed the most in recent years. Everyone had warned her about the power she had over Tony, but they hadn't talked about the power he might have over her. She took one of his hands off her arm and slid it inwards. A low sound came from his throat as he began to explore. She briefly saw his eyes half open, out of focus as his head dropped to her shoulder.

Then her entire body was covered in chemicals from an unknown assailant. She felt the freezing cold substance sink into her pores, doing permanent damage; it filled her eyes, her nose, and her mouth, making her blind and unable to breathe. She couldn't believe that this was how she was going to die.

Slowly the world came back into focus and she could breathe again. Tony's brother Michael threw a now-empty bucket back around the side of the fire hall.

"Teen pregnancy. Very sexy," Michael said.

Nancy looked down to assess the damage. It had only been water.

Tony unleashed the most creative stream of profanity that Nancy had ever heard.

Michael waited impassively until Tony began to run out of steam. "It is the Friday night rush. Freddie can't make it so we're short staffed. You were supposed to come immediately to the kitchen after karate. You can now get in my truck by your feet—"

Tony interrupted with more cursing, mild this time; he seemed to remember that he was in the presence of a female. "You okay?" he asked Nancy, and she nodded.

"—or by your ear," Michael resumed. "Right in front of your girl. And if you keep making a nuisance of yourself, the consequences will be…old-fashioned."

Nancy had a rogue thought that she could volunteer to come and help, but sensed that tonight would not be a good night. She had a second wild thought that, given what she'd seen of Tony's fighting skills, he might really be able to put up a good resistance if he wanted to; a moment later, however, Tony walked over to his karate bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"I'll come pick you up in the morning," he said to her. "We'll spend the whole day together."

Nancy nodded and they shared one last look. He walked around the other side of the fire hall, the side where his brother wasn't standing, karate uniform dripping and rubbing, sopping wet.

Michael remained standing where he was and Nancy realized what he must think of her, with how the past three days had gone. He had spent half of yesterday searching for Tony, and Tony must not have been in a good frame of mind when Michael had found him.

"I must be hallucinating," Michael said. "I thought Tony went on the warpath all day yesterday because you _didn't_ like him."

"I really am sorry," Nancy said sincerely. Drops of water dripped regularly from her T-Shirt onto the ground. "I didn't know how I felt yesterday. Now I do."

"Or maybe you enjoy getting a reaction out of him," Michael answered. "Maybe it makes you feel good about yourself."

"No," Nancy said. "Nothing like that. But I don't know yet if he and I are going to get married."

Michael grinned at that, the crinkles around his eyes deeper than most young men's his age. "Be gentle with my little brother, please," he said, and left her. A moment later she heard his truck start.

Nancy searched within herself and, despite mild guilt, could not find it within herself to regret surprising Tony after karate even though she'd gotten him in trouble. Her _boyfriend_. She thought of what they had been doing and where he had touched her. She felt that the whole way she walked and lived would change, now that this momentous thing had happened, and that she might as well be wearing a neon sign that announced it to the world.

Nancy was quite relieved that no one was home yet to see her walk into her house shivering and soaking wet. She showered but felt too giddy and restless to sit in tonight. She felt that what had happened between her and Tony was sacred but, nevertheless, must be discussed among those she could trust.

Nancy checked her phone and found just the kind of voicemail she'd wanted to hear: Callie had invited all the girls over to her house for a couple of hours after dinner. Bess would be spitting mad that she wasn't the first person to hear about Nancy's first kiss (Nancy's orders from their final sleepover were that she was supposed to call Bess _during_ her first kiss) but she badly needed in-person friends tonight, not phone calls. She quickly ate leftovers, placed a note on the counter for her dad and stepmother, and grabbed her phone on the way out the door.

Callie, Iola, and Vanessa gave Nancy exactly the reaction that the news deserved, with screams so loud that Mrs. Shaw opened the bedroom door to check on them. Callie waited until the door was shut and her mom's footsteps had faded safely down the hallway before beginning the cross-examination.

"So what changed your mind?" Callie asked.

"Weirdly enough, my stepmother," Nancy said. "The main hang-up was…a guy back in River Heights that I'm attracted to. Was, or am, I don't know. But my stepmother told me, pretty much, not to let Prince Charming go galloping by because another Prince Charming might or might not like me in ten years, or whatever." She made sure not to look at Callie as she slightly fibbed.

The other three girls made several follow-up jokes about the metaphor of Tony as Prince Charming.

"Where were each person's hands?" Callie asked.

Nancy squirmed. "Um…."

"Oh my god, so you did more than just kiss," Callie said. "So—time out—answer just one question for us honestly, Nancy."

"Oh—that's right!" Iola shrieked.

"Yes, Nancy," Vanessa said solemnly.

Nancy waited in fear for the question.

"Did Tony immediately know exactly what he was doing, almost as if he'd done it previously a couple hundred times?" Callie asked. "Sending your body into fits of delight?"

Nancy looked from one girl to the next. "It was…very nice to learn with him," she said. "But, uh, no?"

The room collapsed in giggles while Nancy sat on Callie's bed and felt weird.

Vanessa was the first to recover. "Tony is forever bragging about his experience with girls. To Joe in private, just stupid stuff. One time he insisted to Joe that there was a women's public bathroom stall in the next town over that has his name and phone number written on it, with high recommendations."

"Joe was so annoyed that he told us about it. And my cousin Polly took us over there to check it out, and, nope!" Iola chimed in.

"So we wrote, 'For a _bad_ time, see Tony Prito.' And if he ever does you wrong, Nancy, we'll go back and add his phone number," Callie finished, and Nancy was laughing along with them by the end.

"Whoa…we do have to plan for changes now, though, guys," Vanessa said, sitting up straighter in Callie's beanbag chair. "You guys just stole both of Frank and Joe's best friends. They have to share Phil _and_ Tony with girls now. I sure hope the Hardy boys are comfortable spending a whole lot of time just with each other."

"Or…" Iola raised her eyebrows at both Vanessa and Callie.

Vanessa looked decidedly uncomfortable and Callie pretended to throw up in her trash can. Nancy knew to say nothing; Callie had sworn her to secrecy regarding Vanessa's crush on Joe and Joe's crush on Iola. Somehow the whole group was hoping that Iola would never figure out either of those things.

"So first Joe was mad that you _weren't_ dating his best friend, and now he will realize that maybe he didn't want you to after all," Callie mused. "Oh, the irony. And how hysterical if the couples start double dating…could Phil and Tony possibly be more different? And you can have Frank, Vanessa. Whoever's waiting for me and Frank to hook up will be waiting a long-ass time."

"Extracurriculars," Vanessa said, and Callie buried her face in her pillow and gigged helplessly. There was a lot of giggling at these girls' nights.

"Sometimes, when they know for an absolute fact that Frank won't be home for a while, Joe and Tony go through Frank's bedroom," Iola explained to Nancy. "Drawers, notebooks, folders…everything except his computer, of course, because Frank would be able to figure it out right away. Joe must be killing himself that he's with Phil and Frank at that Scouts weekend retreat right now, because this would have been the perfect opportunity."

"The sad part is that, after all these years, they've never found anything interesting," Callie mused. "They found a Ten-Year Career Plan, spreadsheets of his workouts, and, my personal favorite, a folder labeled 'Extracurriculars.' Which helps to organize all of Frank's over-the-top hobbies: karate, football, Boy Scouts, Shakespeare Club, learning JavaScript…there's probably blueprints in there on how to disarm a bomb. He will definitely need a more fun-loving girl to counterbalance how _intense_ he is."

The topic of conversation moved on to more intellectual subjects: gossip and rumors, speculation about teachers' personal lives, and how every last fact they had to learn in school was worthless and would have no relevance to the rest of their lives anyway. Callie pulled out a tube of face mask glop from her bathroom mirror and each girl applied it; there was a moment of crisis when the face mask did not want to come off Vanessa's face, but Mrs. Shaw eventually used just the right combination of gentle scrubbing and warm water to extract it. Mrs. Shaw gave Callie stern orders to buy nail polish for the next gathering instead.

They left Callie's house at 9:00 to be home well before the curfew started at 10:00. Vanessa's house was only a few blocks in the opposite direction, and Iola had to walk past Nancy's house to get home. They all declined a ride from Callie's dad, promising to let Callie know when they each got home safely.

"This worked out great, to give us a chance to talk," Iola said. They walked along Shore Road, since it had a lot of car traffic and light from streetlamps. Iola took a deep breath, and then spoke at a rushed pace. "I don't want to sound like anybody's grandmother, but you and Tony need to have a talk about how far you want to go. I know that you're in the exciting part of the relationship, that you want things to happen on their own, but, trust me, you don't. The first couple of times Phil would just keep going until I told him to stop. And he thought that he was being a perfect gentleman, that a girl must want to be touched everywhere unless she says no. It didn't occur to him to ask me first, for both of us to decide as a couple."

Nancy's expression had become more shocked the more Iola spoke. "_Phil_?" she asked, staggered.

"It's not like that," Iola hurried on when she saw how Nancy looked. "So we had a talk about it and he was horrified when I told him how I was interpreting what he was doing, and I told him exactly what I did and didn't want from then on. He's followed every rule since then, perfectly, and never put pressure on me, but this is just another example of how I have to _explain_ things to him."

Nancy hated herself for not being able to think of anything to say. The gentle swishing sound of the bay's waves was all but drowned out by the sound of summer businesses earning their last week of profit before closing for the fall: ice cream shops, summer clothing stores, souvenirs for tourists.

"Phil is fabulous, of course, and he will be a great dad to our kids someday," Iola said as they turned down a residential street. "I was attracted to him in the first place because he was so sweet and clueless. I still love the sweet part, but explaining social situations to him all the time…it's crazy how it was so much fun at first, and now not as much."

They arrived at Nancy's house. "Well," Nancy said, "Thank you. No, I wasn't going to have that conversation with Tony, but now I will. Tomorrow. And I'm sorry that happened between you and Phil. You and Phil are some of my favorite people and I think a lot of both of you."

"I still love Phil, please understand," Iola said. "Every relationship has its ups and downs. This conversation is between us."

"Of course," Nancy said. "Thanks again, Iola. I appreciate this talk and I hope it's not the last one." The girls waved goodbye.

Nancy again gave her father and stepmother abbreviated teenaged answers about her day. Why did old people always want to hear about the events of people's days? Life was about _relationships_.

It occurred to her that Tony might have gotten home from work and emailed. She eagerly woke up her computer. After this, she would call Bess before it was too late at night and bring her up to speed.

She frowned when she saw a name she wasn't expecting. Oh. It was just an automatic notice from Phil's email provider.

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Phil Cohen]**

**9/21/18 5:07 p.m.**

**Read Receipt**

**Phil Cohen has read the following message you sent.**

**Subject: Assignment For Social Studies**

**Attachment: Bestselling Novel, Word Document**

**Regards, Read Receipt App**

Nancy's blood froze within her veins. She re-read the email several times, hoping that the problem was only that her vision was permanently damaged. Today was supposed to have been the greatest day of her entire life—she had a new boyfriend that had kissed her and touched her _intimately,_ and therefore she was forever changed for the good—and yet a one word difference on this email had destroyed everything, permanently this time.

She thought quickly. Callie had sent her that email two nights ago, guessing that she had a crush on Frank, and Callie had already been true to her word in keeping the secret that Nancy had been trying to matchmake Joe and Iola. She pressed the speed dial for Callie's cell phone with a shaking finger.

"Hey, Nancy," Callie responded, her voice sounding tired. "Glad you made it home safely."

"I wish I hadn't," Nancy said miserably. "Callie, my entire life is ruined."

"Really? What happened?" Callie sounded more intrigued than concerned.

"Well…I have to start out by confessing that, yes, I _used to_ have a crush on Frank."

"I knew it! And did this crush end suddenly when you couldn't resist Antonio's six-pack ab attack?"

"This is _serious_," Nancy hissed. "So I wrote this detective novel—it's actually not that long, though, maybe 20 pages—where Frank is obviously the hero and everyone would be able to figure out that I have a crush on him. Had."

"Send it to me right now. Life cannot continue until I read it."

"We don't have time right now. So I titled it 'Bestselling Novel,' and I titled the assignment for Social Studies 'Bestselling Idea,' and I was in quite a rush when I emailed the Word document to Phil this afternoon, and so I accidentally attached the 'Bestselling Novel!' Phil has my novel! He read my email at 5:07."

"Oh my god, Nancy! That is so funny, but, yes, that is a problem. Phil is not going to have any idea how to respond to that."

"I'm so upset," Nancy said, her voice shaking with repressed tears. "Frank is Phil's best friend. The first thing Phil would do is show him my novel. And everybody already thinks I've been yanking Tony around…the story of this week was that first I like him, then I don't, then I like him again, and now everyone will think I don't like him again and I like Frank? No one can read that novel, Callie! No one!"

"Okay, okay. Let's focus." Callie's voice was soothing yet had a take-charge tone to it, and Nancy felt a wave of relief. Callie would know what to do. "First of all, let me try to call Phil," Callie said. "If his phone is on, he'll pick up right away. He won't read that document if we ask him not to."

There was a knock on Nancy's bedroom door. Her dad and Griselda stood in the hallway. They told her that they were going to bed early and that they hoped she slept well. Nancy put on a pleasant face—but not too pleasant, as that would make them suspicious—and got rid of them as soon as she could, shutting the door.

"Phil's phone went straight to voicemail, which could be a good or bad thing," Callie said when Nancy returned to her phone. "So we know that he read your email at 5:07, but we don't know if he even opened the Word document attachment. At 5:00, he might have just been checking to make sure that everybody in our class had submitted their assignment. I think he's not picking up his phone because he's in a tent behind the fire hall right now. It's the only place in town that has trees and sort of looks like woods, so that's where they always have their Scouts retreats."

"My rotten luck! Of all weekends for the guys to have a Scouts retreat!"

"It could be a good thing, because maybe it means he hasn't read it yet," Callie continued. "These loser retreats start at 7:00, so maybe he didn't have enough time. But this is Phil we're talking about; he might turn his phone on in the middle of the night to get homework done or something. I don't think the adults confiscate the phones because he's called Iola before when he was on a retreat. And he might seriously think that your novel is your Social Studies assignment and grade it…but I do think that he'd comment about it to Frank, too. The bottom line is that we have to get to Phil _before_ he has any more chances to read it."

Nancy felt a hard pit of trepidation form in her stomach.

"There's only one reasonable thing that we can do, Nancy," Callie said. "Make sure you're wearing a dark, warm outfit, and I'll meet you at the Bayport Cemetery in 15 minutes. We have to go out to the retreat and lure Phil out of his tent."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! It warms my heart and keeps me going! A special thank you to my Guest reviewers, since I can't PM you; your wise analysis makes me consider themes of the story in a new light. Let's follow Nancy and Callie to the Scouts retreat. I'm sure nothing will go wrong._

Several minutes later, dressed warmly and in dark colors, Nancy walked quickly along the blocks of residential streets that made up the shortest route to the Bayport Cemetery. The path seemed friendly and benign in the daytime, but now eerily quiet and sinister. Nancy's heart pounded as her imagination turned every moving shadow into a foe.

She couldn't believe that this was her life. Had she only been in Bayport a month? She had terrific new friends, but hanging out with boys caused _so_ much drama. She had her first boyfriend—that she was about to lose again if this mess wasn't cleaned up—and now she and Callie were sneaking out together late at night. Nancy missed Hannah, Bess, George, and having her dad all to herself.

Nancy stifled a scream as a fairy wraith silently floated out of the cemetery to meet her. Callie slipped her hand into Nancy's and their mission officially began.

"I'm so glad that you came into my life, Nancy," Callie said in a low voice as they walked. They had to stick to the shadows, but avoid the areas of complete darkness. "I am counting on your love life to entertain me for years to come. Any problems sneaking out?"

"No," Nancy said. "My dad and Griselda went to bed early."

"My parents, too," Callie said. "It is Friday night, after all."

"That's disgusting," Nancy said wearily. "Parents shouldn't do such things."

"Then they wouldn't be parents. Seriously, though, Nancy—_Frank?_ Explain to me why anyone would be attracted to Frank," Callie said. "He acts like he's forty years old. He's better than us at everything, so I've always kind of thought that he thinks he's better than us, period."

Nancy frowned. "Really? You grew up with him, so you would know better than I do. He seems to me like he just really wants to live life, learn as much as he can and do as much as he can do, especially so he and Joe will be ready to catch all those bad guys next year."

"I guess," Callie said, sounding unconvinced. "I never thought about it like that before. Oh my god, Nancy, the streetlight's out."

They faced a significant dark patch in the road. They squeezed hands, counted to three, and sprinted through it, trying not to squeal too loudly. They were so scared by the time they emerged on the other side that they just continued running the rest of the way to the fire hall.

Callie slowed down a block away, pulling on Nancy's hand to hold her back. "We are _so_ lucky that we avoided cars on the way here. And, um…you know that word, 'feasible,' that's on the vocabulary test next week? Well," Callie said doubtfully, "now that we're out here, my plan feels like it is not all that 'feasible.' I'm sorry, Nancy. Should we go back?"

Nancy briefly considered. "Let's at least stake out the scene. I won't be able to relax all weekend if I don't know what happened. And it would be really embarrassing to get caught by an adult, but, honestly, if we can still get to Phil before he reads my novel, it will be worth it to me. Wait, are you saying that _you_ want to go back? I'm not going to drag you into anything."

"No, I want to come with you," Callie said. "We're partners in this. I ask only one thing in return. No matter what happens out there—no matter what humiliations we live through—please, please email me your novel as soon as we get home."

Nancy grinned at her. "Of course, Cal." She released her grip on Callie's hand and hooked her pinkie into Callie's for a pinky swear.

The girls slowly and carefully left the street and tiptoed through the trees, approaching the periphery of the circle of eight tents. The group of uniformed Scouts—about fifteen of them, Nancy guessed, plus troop leaders—were sitting around a bonfire, but they were definitely not telling ghost stories. She saw Joe sitting toward the back. Phil and Frank were doing some kind of a demonstration; first aide, Nancy guessed, and her guess was confirmed when Frank took Phil's vital signs in rapid time, showed how to do CPR on a dummy, and wrapped a tourniquet around Phil's leg.

Callie leaned in to whisper to Nancy. "You're right, I guess I'd want Frank next to me in an emergency," she said, and Nancy could hear a new tone of grudging respect.

Nancy soon became cold and bored. She felt guilty about Callie coming out here with her, even though the trip had been Callie's idea. She told herself firmly that she would need to learn the skill of patience during a stakeout in order to be a detective one day. It helped to look at the brick wall of the fire hall and think about what she and Tony had been doing there only a few hours before.

The session finally finished. Some of the guys sat around talking, some of them started fooling around, and a few of them began to get ready for bed. Frank and Phil spoke briefly and Phil headed to his tent.

"Oh, no. Is Phil seriously going to bed already? He's got to come back out, right, to wash his face or pee or something?" Nancy whispered desperately to Callie. "How can we throw stones at his tent without also getting the attention of the entire troop? We can't wait here until everybody's asleep, and, even if we did, what if he screams like a girl when we wake him up?"

"I'm going to warn Iola to stop making out with him, if he's not even going to brush his teeth. Let's at least get closer to his tent," Callie whispered back. They began to slowly move in the darkness. "But do you see what I mean, Nancy, about these guys with all book smarts and no common sense? They're out here learning skills, like, how to put their ear to the ground and sense how many horses are galloping toward them from three miles away, but they're not paying enough attention to know that two girls are watching—"

Nancy felt a hand over her mouth just as Callie stopped speaking. She flailed her arms in instinctive panic. "Shhh, hey, girls, it's only me. Frank," a familiar voice whispered. "We can't make any sounds at all. Are you ready for me to let go?"

Nancy nodded. She and Callie had stilled by the time Frank let them go and stood in front of them. "Follow me," he said quietly, and began walking silently back through the trees toward the road.

Callie stepped on a branch and it snapped loudly. Without losing stride, Frank swiftly picked her up in a fireman's carry and soon the three were safely out of earshot on the residential street.

Frank bent at the knees and tipped Callie off his shoulders and back onto her feet. "Wow," Callie said. "That was cool."

"I can guess why you're here," Frank said to the two of them. Nancy couldn't see his expression well in the darkness. "It's flattering that you both think it's that big of a deal, to come all the way out here."

"You read it?" Nancy asked, her anxiety rising. Callie put a hand on Nancy's arm, a signal to stop talking.

"What happened, Frank?" Callie asked.

"I'll tell you all about it. But, first of all, how are you girls getting home?" Frank asked.

"Our feet, the same way we got here," Callie said.

"I can't let girls walk home by themselves this late. I'm a Scout."

Callie thrust both hands into her hair in a gesture of supreme vexation.

"We can either call someone to pick you up, maybe Michael," Frank resumed, "or I can walk you both home. I'm sharing a tent with only Phil, and Phil is acting like we both went to bed already, but we still have to hurry."

The girls quickly selected the second option and the three began to walk, following the trail of streetlights toward the center of town. Nancy's heart pounded as she waited for Frank to speak.

"So Phil received your email, Nancy," Frank said, "and, yes, he read your story."

Nancy whimpered in embarrassment.

"And then he gave me his phone and begged me to read it, too, so I did," Frank continued.

"You guys are assholes," Callie snapped, once more grasping Nancy's hand tightly. Nancy focused on breathing deeply in an effort not to cry.

"Yeah, in hindsight, we probably are," Frank said. "Phil made me promise not to tell anyone. And I won't, I give my word. He permanently deleted the file afterward. I read it because Phil was quite distressed and said that he needed me to explain to you that he likes you as a friend but does not return your romantic interest."

"He is such a moron!" Callie hissed. Nancy's mouth had dropped open.

"You can see how he thought his character was the hero of your story, Nancy," Frank said in a mildly bemused tone. "You gave Dr. Cohen all those impressive credentials. His testimony got Miss Magpie convicted, plus he was the executioner at the end."

There was a brief pause. "Well," Nancy said, trying to keep her emotions out of her voice as much as possible, "This is better news than it could have been. The file is deleted, no one besides the four of us will ever know about my story, and you can explain to Phil how heartbroken I am that he doesn't love me in return but that I respect his wishes."

"Nancy," Frank said, the kindness in his voice killing her, "I read your story so I could understand what was going on and help you and Phil. His character didn't appear until the very last chapter. That story is by far the greatest compliment anyone has ever given me. I…really, really enjoyed reading it. Thank you. I hope one day I'm ten percent of the detective you made me out to me."

"Um," Callie said uncertainly, "why don't you guys drop me off first so you can talk in private." They could see Bayport cemetery in the distance.

Nancy took a deep breath. "No," she decided. "Drop me off first. I wrote that story because of first impressions I had right when I arrived in Bayport. I'm with Tony now, and I'm happy."

"So that's what you decided," Frank commented, his tone neutral. "Congratulations, Nancy. Tony's a good guy." They were just beginning to exit a dark section of road and, once again, Nancy couldn't see his expression.

"Thanks. And Frank," she forced herself to add, making herself even more vulnerable when all she wanted to do was put up an emotional shield, "I do think you will be a kick-ass detective next year."

"With kick-ass first aide skills," Callie said. "That was amazing around the bonfire, Frank."

Frank shot Callie a startled look, frowning, appearing to assess whether she was serious or not.

"So tonight went sort of okay, right, Nancy?" Callie asked, sounding hopeful. "Phil didn't realize what he was doing when he showed your story to Frank, and Frank read it to try to help. Your novel never moves beyond me, Frank, and Phil, and you have a positive review from a reader. Do you take requests? Can you write a story with me acting like Black Widow?"

Nancy noticed some parked headlights and made frantic gestures to her two friends. They hid behind a very large tree—not perfectly, but adequately—and peered over at the lone figure in the cemetery.

"Not again," a male voice said, his voice shaking with passion. "I promise. I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again." Coach Hafetz was pacing back and forth in front of a headstone, appearing agitated and lost in his own distress. Nancy wondered if he had really slipped another package to Miss Swain at 4:00 that afternoon. After another minute of similar muttering, he got back into his car and drove away in the opposite direction from them.

"Whoa," Frank said. "I like him. It's hard to see him that upset."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Callie said, "but I don't think we should gossip about that. That looked intense and personal."

"We won't gossip. But we should find out whose headstone he was standing in front of," Nancy said. Before they could move, however, another pair of headlights shone in their vision. This time, the headlights were from behind them.

A door opened on a squad car and a man in uniform stepped out. "Frank Hardy? Out at this time of night with not one, but two young ladies?" the man said, and Nancy could have sworn she heard a trace of admiration mingled within the stern lecture. "I never thought you had it in you."

"Chief Collig," Frank stammered, his eyes shining with fear. Nancy could easily guess that Frank had never been in trouble before in his life.

"So, let's hear what you three are doing out at the cemetery at this time of night, and with Frank dressed in a Boy Scouts uniform besides. The truth, please." Chief Collig looked at each of them.

How could Nancy ever begin to explain the drama about the mix-up with her novel? The thought of it filled her with fresh mortification.

"It was my idea," Callie blurted out. "I wanted to scare Frank while he was at the Scouts retreat at the fire hall, just to tease him, and I made Nancy come along with me. But Frank saw us in the woods and insisted on walking us home, like a good Life Scout."

"Callie," Nancy began.

"Don't try to cover for me, Nancy," Callie snapped at her.

Nancy looked in wonder at Callie. Nancy felt like she herself had done nothing but let Callie down since the night Callie had reached out for her friendship, yet Callie had continued to cover for her and show fierce loyalty despite Nancy's mistakes. Nancy knew that some people went their entire lives without finding friendship like this.

Chief Collig narrowed his eyes at each of them in turn. He appeared more comfortable the longer the silence continued, yet the three teenagers became noticeably more uncomfortable. Nancy had learned long ago that everyone who worked in law enforcement had an innate sense of smell for untruth. "Well," the chief said eventually, "I've heard worse. And all you're doing is loitering. Nevertheless, the 10:00 curfew is brand new, which means it's got to be enforced so kids know to take it seriously."

"What does that mean?" Frank asked in trepidation.

The chief shrugged. "Community service, most likely. Certainly nothing on your juvie record. So it will probably help your college applications even more, Mr. Hardy." He winked and opened the squad car door for them.

Nancy had to admit the following morning that the chief had been more than reasonable with them. He had dropped off Frank a block away from the Scouts retreat so Frank could sneak back into his tent with Phil; however, he warned Frank that his parents would be receiving a call in the morning. Chief Collig had kept Nancy in the car while he dropped off Callie and spoke to her parents in the doorway. Finally, he had dropped off Nancy and spoken to her father and stepmother; her stepmother took it mildly, while her father appeared stunned and confused. After the chief left, the three had agreed to go to bed and discuss things in the morning.

Nancy's nerves and emotions were raw and she was physically and emotionally exhausted. However, she did two quick things before going to bed: she emailed Phil her assignment for Social Studies—with the _correct_ document attached—and emailed Callie her novel.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: As always—thanks, everybody! Every word of every review is precious to me! Thanks to the silent readers as well. JB_

Nancy slept in until 9:30 the following morning, which was a Saturday. She looked in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. _Another_ breakout of acne, along the side of her right cheek.

First things first. She checked her email.

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Callie Shaw]**

**9/22/18 8:32 a.m.**

**Re: Last Night**

**Hi Nancy—I just wanted to let you know that my parents were pretty cool about last night. I'm grounded for today with some extra chores, plus we'll have whatever community service we're sentenced to, of course. I wonder if they'll make us wear those black and white prison uniforms? I was going to hang out with Iola today so I had to email her to explain why I was grounded…but don't worry, I told her the version where I made you come out with me to scare Frank. She got a kick out of it.**

**Dear God, your Bestselling Novel…I just read the part where Frank breaks into Miss Magpie's underground chemistry lab wearing only a cluster of grapes, ties her up, and interrogates her with a feather dipped in truth serum. Does it make me gross that I kind of felt something while I was reading that scene? For a minute there, I was afraid that Frank would start feeding a grape to Miss Magpie as a reward for each truthful answer, and then he'd have been standing there starkers. I hate to say it, Nancy, but I think Frank might have figured out from this novel that you feel some sexual attraction toward him. Callie**

Nancy returned a short email of apologies, thanks, and reassurance that Callie was not gross.

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Iola Morton]**

**9/22/18 8:37 a.m.**

**Re: Life of Crime!**

**Nancy—I can't believe you let Callie talk you into illegal activities last night! I'm sorry I missed all the fun, but I'm glad I didn't get caught with you guys, either. I can't believe Callie went to all that trouble just to tease Frank! Do you think she likes him? Love, Iola**

Nancy smiled to herself and decided not to reply to that email just yet. She opened her bedroom door to get some breakfast.

"—family has been a rock in this community for generations, and never caused any problems," she heard Griselda saying from downstairs. "They're the loudest family at every gathering, constantly bantering back and forth, but they're the most loving to each other, too."

"Nancy," her father yelled up the stairs. "Lock yourself in your bedroom until I tell you it's safe to come out. There's a gang member outside who's been stalking the house for almost an hour."

"Really?" Nancy said, excited. Her phone had been on silent mode, so she wouldn't have heard any calls. Nancy raced down the stairs and peered through the blinds as Tony rode by on his bike.

"He has a blue shirt on, so at least we know that he belongs to the Crypts, not the Bloods," Carson said icily from the breakfast table.

Nancy turned to him. "Tony is not a gang member. He makes straight As and plays in the marching band."

Carson frowned. "Really?"

"No, but those goals might be on his Five-Year Career Plan," Nancy said. "We can't assume that they're not, Dad. Discrimination is _illegal_."

Carson glowered at her. "Thank you for reminding me of my legal responsibilities, Nancy. You're right. Let's not discriminate before we know the facts." He took four long strides to the front door and opened it. "Hey! Come here."

Carson didn't speak again until Tony had dismounted from his bike and stood on the front porch. "What's your Five-Year Career Plan, Son?"

"Dad!" Nancy squeaked as Griselda said "_Carson_" in the tone of an irate wife.

"I want to get accepted into Drexel University and study civil engineering," Tony answered. "Working summers on my dad's construction crew got me interested in design. I can get all the math problems correct after Frank takes his time explaining the theories to me. And Frank thinks I'll understand enough of the theories by the end of high school that I won't need tutoring in college."

Nancy realized that Tony had asked about her hopes and dreams last Wednesday, and she had never asked him about his.

"Oh," Carson said. "Well. Good." He shut the door in Tony's face.

"Well, too bad you're grounded today anyway, Nancy," Carson said, returning to his coffee.

Nancy's heart plunged. "What? Give me extra chores, ground me next week instead, _please!_ This is, like, the only day when we can have the entire day to ourselves."

"_Before_ you snuck out of the house last night," Carson said.

Nancy felt misunderstood, then disappointed, then frantic, and then very, very calm. "I did not sneak out of the house last night just for no good reason," she said to her father in an even tone. "There have been social problems going on all week that had to be taken care of immediately. Social problems that would not have happened if you hadn't dragged me across the country. You do not allow me to have text or internet on my phone, so my friends are communicating with each other without me. You censor my books and my movies so I barely even know what real life is like. You don't allow me to help with your legal cases so I can't even prepare for my career. I've spent my entire life under your power and control, so grounding isn't even necessary. And now you are allowed to have a wife yet you don't even want me to have a _boyfriend!"_

Carson stared at her in shock. There was a long moment of silence.

Griselda spoke up. "Carson, this has been a very hard week for Nancy. I think she needs today to heal her relationships," she said, laying her hand on top of his.

Carson stared into his coffee briefly. Then he went to the front door and opened it again. "You will have her back home before the sun goes down, and Nancy will call me every hour to check in. You will not take her into your house. You will not go into a bedroom in _anyone's_ house."

"I promise," Tony said.

Nancy gave her dad a brief, tight hug, then ran upstairs and showered without washing her hair. She wondered if she should worry about what she was wearing, but Tony was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, as it was a very warm day for September, so she did, too. Somehow she ate a banana while she dressed, then grabbed her phone and house key and ran down the stairs.

"Hold on," Griselda called, and approached Nancy with a backpack. Nancy peeked inside: peanut butter and jelly, chips, and water. Boring, but did not require refrigeration, so she and Tony could eat whenever they got hungry. Nancy gave Griselda a quick, one-armed side-hug before joining Tony on the sidewalk.

"That was nice of her," Tony said, balancing the backpack on his bike's handlebars. "We've always liked Griselda, but we make fun of her for saying 'hoagies,' not 'subs.' You may want to speak to her about that. And I like your dad."

Nancy looked at him in surprise. She began to walk next to him while he cruised slowly on his bike, feet dragging on the ground. She remembered the pimples on her right cheek and switched to walk on Tony's right so he might not see them as much. "You were impressed by his overprotective drama?"

"Yes. It would have really pissed me off if he didn't care about you."

Nancy had been hoping to have a quick talk and then fall behind the nearest bush to do some of the things that the Sunday School teachers had told her not to, but there was something about Tony's mood that held her back. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Tony answered. "I'll be fine soon. The fight at my house was much worse than usual today. My mom wants Michael to go to college so bad, but he just hated school, you know, and feels like my mom should be happy that he graduated high school. He doesn't yell back at her—he's not a yeller—but he took some low blows at her this morning, asking questions about why _she_ didn't go to college and why can't she go now, and eventually she just burst into tears."

"Your mom is such a hard worker, and obviously has the smarts to run a good business," Nancy said thoughtfully. "I bet she _could_—"

"Please, no, Nancy," Tony said wearily. "We can't get involved in this. My mom doesn't read too well and I've noticed that with adults, they reach an age where they're afraid to try new things…but it's like she wants to live her dreams through me and Michael, which is a lot of pressure. My dad just kind of comes home at the end of the day and falls asleep exhausted, like all he does is work and sleep, and she doesn't want that for me or Michael. People think owning your own business is terrific, but there are weeks when you work ninety hours and get paid for thirty."

Nancy put a hand on his arm.

"And it gets complicated because my family is huge, so it's not like Mr. Pizza automatically passes to Michael or me. What about my dad's cousin Freddie, who's slaved in that restaurant for the past twenty years? He had to take a couple of years off because he got sick, but he should still be in the running. He has a wife and a new baby to support. And my uncle Matthew has put in more years in the construction company than my dad." Tony shook his head. "Well, I'm not going to fight anyone for anything. Maybe I'll go my own way. I'm fine, we don't need to talk about it anymore. But I wish this fighting between my mom and Michael would stop."

Nancy had thought of a couple of supportive things to say but could sense that Tony was beginning to feel better and that he genuinely did want to change the subject. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble with Michael yesterday."

"Well worth it." Tony grinned at her.

"Before I forget," Nancy asked, "I meant to ask you. What did Michael mean by old-fashioned consequences yesterday?"

"We don't need to talk about that either," Tony said. "It's been years, but it's something I'm hoping not to repeat."

"But you're allowed to curse like you did yesterday?"

"I was cursing at the general universe, not at him. There is a big difference between saying eff _it_ and saying eff _you_."

The more Nancy learned about the rules Tony lived under, the more intrigued she became. "So Michael is kind of like a dad to you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's more like everyone in my family is allowed to order around anyone who's younger than they are, so I take orders from everyone who's fifteen or older."

"I like that," Nancy said.

"Hey," Tony protested.

"For the same reason that you like my dad." Nancy smiled at him. "I've only ever had my dad and Hannah. But it's like you have this whole huge community of people who care about you and make sure you stay in line."

"Well. Since you say it like that." Tony gave her an affectionate look. "Where are you taking me?"

Nancy realized that she had, indeed, been subconsciously guiding him slowly through town, and that she knew where she wanted to end up. "You'll see when we get there," she said.

"Suspense," Tony commented. He set the alarm on his phone to go off every hour so Nancy would remember to check in.

"But as we get there, I need to explain something that happened last night." Nancy took a deep breath. She had debated with herself while falling asleep last night about what and how much she told Tony, but, in the end, had decided to tell him the full truth. She didn't believe in secrets between boyfriends and girlfriends, and she also couldn't stand books where the heroine could have prevented a huge blowup situation if she had only communicated clearly to begin with. Tony stopped riding his bike so he could look at her throughout the entire explanation.

"But I wrote the novel back when I was feeling weird about Frank," she finished, anxious not to almost ruin—again—what was only beginning between her and Tony. "I'm thinking that for your birthday in February, I'll write a story about Antonio Prito, Warrior Chief of the Rubicon. You can—you can read the novel if you want to," she finished lamely, desperately hoping that he wouldn't.

Tony gave her a small smile. "No thanks," he said. "I'll wait until the novel gets published on the bestselling list, and then read it along with everyone else. I don't want to read a book that was written about another guy. But seriously, Nancy…it stops here with you and Frank? I'm trying to be cool about all this, but you need to meet me halfway. Dump me if you need to, but I'm not sharing you with him. And you don't even know how he feels."

"And I don't need to know how he feels. He's never given me any reason ever to think that he liked me. I swear on everything, there is nothing else that you need to know about me and Frank," Nancy said truthfully. "Please believe me. I don't even keep a diary. I email my friends back home when I need to talk about something."

"I believe you," Tony said. "And you said that Phil _permanently_ deleted the file? I'm going to freak out if I have to hear jokes about it, or if it gets passed around, or if pages of it get taped to my locker—"

"Frank promised me that Phil permanently deleted it," Nancy confirmed.

"All right." Tony nodded and they resumed their slow pace through town. "And, sorry to burst any kind of bubble—well, I'm really not sorry—but sometimes when Frank is out of the house, Joe and I…inspect his bedroom for him. Just to make sure that he's staying organized, that he's on track with his Ten-Year Career Plan, extracurriculars, things like that. And, last year, we found a full _sonnet_ about Callie's fiery personality. We looked up 'poetry' on Wikipedia and saw that Frank's sonnet followed all of Shakespeare's rules."

"Frank likes Callie?" Nancy waited to feel hurt, but it didn't come. It was like what she felt for Frank was irrelevant to their relationships with other people; it was only between her and him, yet did not disrespect other people either. She didn't feel jealous that Frank liked Callie.

"Yup," Tony answered, and Nancy felt his eyes on her, assessing her reaction. "Well, last year, at least," Tony continued, "and anything could change in a year. Callie can keep your novel because it makes Frank look good and maybe it will help out Frank for her to read it. She wouldn't pass it around school, she's not ignorant like that. So you're telling me that, if I hear anything, I have to pretend to everyone that I think you and Callie snuck out last night so that she could scare Frank. Joe is going to get a lot of mileage out of that one; Callie is going to get teased to no end that she likes Frank. All these high school secrets…we have to hide this secret from that person, that secret from this person, but I bet everyone secretly knows everything anyway."

They arrived at Bayport Cemetery. Nancy considered whether she should wait and consult with Frank about whether or not to tell Tony about their mystery, but decided that Frank should not have the authority to make all the decisions. It wouldn't make any sense to let Biff Hooper know all the details and then not tell her own boyfriend. She told Tony all about the notes from Coach Hafetz to Miss Swain, the 4:00 Friday meetings to slip the package, Coach Hafetz wanting a permanent solution, and the "not again" muttering by Coach Hafetz in the cemetery immediately before Chief Collig busted them for breaking curfew.

Tony looked at her with admiration. "You busy fire-haired little monkey," he said when she finished. "You've had a mystery going all this time. Remind me never to take one day off school. I lose out on too much information."

"We were standing right here, behind this tree," Nancy said. "His car headlights gave us some light. I counted how many rows back Coach was standing at, and how many headstones over."

"Awesome thinking, Nancy. I don't think I would have thought to do that." Tony dismounted from his bike and took Nancy's hand.

Nancy realized with some humor that she and Tony had made out before they had ever held hands. His hand felt good in hers, like they were partners. Nancy led him to the headstone that Coach had been standing in front of the night before.

The headstone was plain and looked exactly like those around it. It said simply, "Sophie Conners. 1970-1992. Dearly missed."

"So she was 22 when she died," Nancy said. "How old do you think Coach is?"

Tony shrugged. "Forty-five? Fifty? Which would make him born…in the early seventies?"

"So this is a woman he loved who died before her time?" Nancy asked. "Have you ever heard anything about her?"

"No, but I know which witness we should interview," Tony said. "My nonna is so old—in her _sixties_—and she has been the first to know all of the Bayport gossip since she was a little girl. My dad's mom. Let me handle this; if she starts giving us food, we'll be there all afternoon, and I have other plans for this afternoon."

Nancy felt like a terrible detective. She was looking forward to Tony's other plans for the afternoon more than the research that they needed to do.

Tony retrieved his bike and they walked a couple of miles to his nonna's house. They had to spend precious time buttering her up before asking their questions. Their time was only well spent in introducing Nancy, however, as Tony's nonna immediately denied all knowledge of a Sophie Conners or any woman that the coach had known who had died in the early nineties. She showed the two teens to the door shortly thereafter.

"That was weird and I think she knows something," Tony said after they left. "Coach has lived in Bayport all his life, except college maybe, and my nonna would definitely know about a tragic lost love. But she also didn't speculate about who the woman could _possibly_ have been, or start talking about _other_ tragic love affairs she's heard about, and that is not normal for her. But we can't go around interviewing everybody about Sophie Conners or it's going to get back to Coach Hafetz really quick."

"We can do a Google search," Nancy said thoughtfully as she walked. "Griselda only moved here ten years ago, so I don't think she'd know anything anyway. Since Sophie died in the olden days, way back in 1992, maybe the library can help."

"How about another day?" Tony asked. "We have other important things to do, Nancy. I'm taking you somewhere and it's right around this curve in the road."

"Yes, we need to do those important things next," Nancy said eagerly. "Oh, but wait. I'm afraid I might not measure up. Callie, Iola, and Vanessa told me how many hundreds of girls you've been with before me."

Tony looked appropriately chagrined. "It's hard to have a best friend as clueless about girls as Joe is," he muttered. "Once in a while I have to exaggerate things to try to help him. Make things up, even. Sometimes I really worry that he will die a virgin. I have to describe some things to him that girls might like so he's a little bit prepared if a woman is ever willing to be with him."

"I understand," Nancy said, with a small smirk. "Oh—this is beautiful! Where are we?"

"The edge of town," Tony said. "This is the Tower Mansion, with a caregiver that only stops by once in a while." He was looking at Nancy in a way that no one had ever looked at her before.

They arrived on the grass behind the mansion and Nancy saw why he'd brought her here: it was a beautiful scene in nature, a field of grass stretching inland, while they could hear the waves of the bay breaking against a cliff in the distance. The Tower blocked them from the view of the road, yet it was not so secluded that they would feel comfortable doing _anything_ here.

"I'm hungry," Nancy announced. Tony dismounted from his bike and lay prostrate on the ground like there was no reason for him to go on living.

Nancy opened their backpack and threw a Ziploc bagged sandwich at him. "I want more energy so we can make out for hours _after_ we eat."

"Those are the magic words." Tony sat up and ate their lunch with her. Nancy sat across from him on the ground and they took off their shoes.

Toward the end of their lunch, Nancy swallowed her bite. She had remembered Iola's warning to her about the need to talk things out in advance. "I want to talk anyway. About what we're going to do and not going to do. There is only one part of me that I don't want you to touch."

"I get it," Tony said. "And I won't."

"And I want us to keep our clothes completely on. Except for your shirt."

Tony peeled his shirt off immediately. He had an undefined boy's chest, not a man's; his shoulders were broader than other boys' his age, however, most likely from summers of manual labor.

Nancy looked at him pointedly. "You're distracting me. What rules do you have?"

"We shouldn't do anything in your father's house," Tony answered, taking a swig of water. "It's disrespectful."

"It's actually my stepmother's house," Nancy said.

"But still. Your father lives there. Nothing on the front lawn, either, or anywhere on the property."

Nancy did not see how geography affected the level of respect of their actions, but decided not to question the logic.

"You can touch whatever you want to on me. But your dad is right, I guess," Tony said grudgingly, "we should kind of stay out in the open. It wouldn't be fun to stop if we really got going. But I would. Still, though, don't torture me, please."

Nancy thought that she would like to find out what he considered to be torturous to him, and, only after then, not do those things anymore. "Okay. And other people might want us to stay out in the open, too, so they can take notes and learn a few things from us."

Tony looked at her long and searchingly. "So are we good? I want you to…enjoy yourself. And I really don't want you to wish later that we hadn't done this."

"I want to do this. And don't worry, I will not forget about enjoying myself," Nancy answered.

Tony grabbed their trash in two huge fistfuls and shoved it into the backpack, then reached for Nancy and pulled her onto the grass with him.

Nancy wondered later how it could have been such an in-body yet out-of-body experience at the same time. She was more comfortable with his body today than she had been yesterday. Sometimes their teeth scraped, but they became better with practice. Tony was gentle and considerate in his inexperienced fumbling. She especially enjoyed his more labored breathing and the sounds that came from his throat, sometimes bordering on a whimper. And Nancy could finally bury her hands in Tony's thick, curly hair, like she'd wanted to do since the night they'd met.

The alarm on Tony's phone went off for another of Nancy's hourly check-ins, and he rolled to the side. Nancy waited to catch her breath and then called her dad. She hung up and turned back to Tony. He was on his back, holding out one arm to her. She snuggled into his side for a break.

"There's a part in Game of Thrones when a teenager has his first experience and says 'This is all I want to do, every moment, for the rest of my life,'" Tony commented.

Nancy grinned and kissed his cheek.

"This means something to me, Nance," Tony said. "Whatever happens, I don't want you to ever think that this doesn't mean something to me."

"Me too," Nancy told him.

"Can you, umm…tell me what it feels like for you?" Tony asked. "And I apologize for my comments about your rear view yesterday. My hands fit perfectly."

Nancy accepted his apology and described it to him, to the best of her ability. She suddenly worried about what he would tell the guys later, and they agreed that neither of them would analyze the other's performance with their friends. Tony was pleased to hear that she had told the girls that she had enjoyed learning with him. Joe was on the Scouts retreat, so Tony hadn't had an opportunity to say anything to him yet.

And they soon learned that making out is an activity to be done in smaller increments of time, with breaks. They played verbal games to get to know each other more. They began to speculate about what their lives would be like next year, when they began to help Frank and Joe with detective work.

""We need to make a list of skills that all good detectives have," Nancy said. "We have to be able to analyze a crime scene, use reverse psychology and deductive reasoning, and learn all about motives and how evil people think. Callie's hobby is gardening, so maybe she can teach us which poisonous plants might be used to murder someone. Whatever skills each of us has, we have to teach the basics to the group, to 'pool our resources.'"

"Then I can teach you the skill of playing air hockey," Tony said innocently.

Nancy stomped her foot, which was difficult to do since she was still lying on the ground. "You have a million skills, Tony. How to run a business and construct things and do karate and now you even know how to make out. What can I teach everyone?"

"You will not be teaching our group how to make out," Tony said. "You have a good brain and you have people skills. There's something about you, Nancy...I mean, you drove me crazy after a few hours of arcade games and washing dishes. And this conversation has convinced me—" Tony put his shirt back on and stood up—"every detective, every _woman_, needs to know basic self-defense. Stand up for your first lesson."

Nancy complied. Of all the things that Tony taught her the rest of that afternoon, she found the stances themselves to be the most difficult: abs contracted but not sucked in, which leg should be weight-bearing, back straight with shoulders back and down. He focused on defensive techniques: attacking the parts of the body that were most vulnerable, how to position her feet on an attacker's hip bones to shove him off her, blocking and turning to run, lying on her back and bicycle kicking. He made sure to give plenty of physical positive reinforcement as Nancy showed progress.

"You're getting it," Tony said at the end of her lesson, hugging her from behind. "So first I taught you how to make someone feel good, and then I taught you how to make someone feel bad. Remember, when all else fails, there's always a move called 'Twist and Shout,' although I'd rather you not practice it on me."

Nancy twisted around and kissed him. "Tony," she whispered, "It's getting late and I'm getting cold."

They fixed each other's hair the best that they could; a mostly futile effort, as both of them had curly hair that rarely obeyed orders. They put their shoes on and Nancy looked one last time at their special place in the grass.

Tony asked if she wanted the bike or the bike's handlebars. "I brought my bike today because I was afraid you might be too exhausted making out all afternoon to walk back to town," he said.

"Thanks for thinking of me, but I'd rather walk. Although I'm sure I will fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight," Nancy reassured him.

"You know," Tony mused, once more riding his bike as she walked next to him, "I really would feel better knowing that you knew some karate. Do you think your dad would let you sign up for class?"

"My dad would be okay with it because he'd want me to be able to defend myself, too," Nancy replied. "But I don't want to be the only person there starting from the beginning."

"Everybody in your class would be starting from the beginning. The new White Belt class begins at the end of next month," Tony said. "The instructors cancelled my class for this week so they could try to recruit new students. I'm already working a lot with Frank, since he's a blue belt and trying to become a purple belt, so he and I volunteered to do a demonstration. Maybe you could come see us on Friday afternoon and decide if you want to sign up."

"Cool," Nancy said. "Yeah. I think I want to. Very sexy, by the way, being fourteen years old with a purple belt. I googled it and it's way high up."

Tony grinned at her. "Frank will earn his purple belt maybe next year. I'm glad I can help him with something in return, with all the help he gives me in math theories. Oh, damn." Tony stopped pedaling.

"What?" Nancy stopped walking and followed his gaze.

They had taken the least populated roads back into town. Michael's pickup truck was parked fifty feet in front of them.

"Whatever he's doing, we shouldn't interrupt him," Tony said. "We need to slowly back up and return the way we came from."

But just then the driver's side door to Michael's pickup truck opened. Michael stepped out and shut the door behind him, buckling his belt while walking toward them.

"Is Polly in there with you?" Tony snapped, still sitting on his bike. "Teen pregnancy is not sexy, remember, Michael?"

"I am twenty years old," Michael said, stopping in front of them. "And I'm sure you two have done nothing but hold hands with gloves on all day."

Then his demeanor changed. Throughout every brief encounter she'd had with him, Michael had kept a carefully neutral, guarded expression, with a tone of voice that was kind, yet expecting to be obeyed; now his eyes narrowed slightly and his posture became more rigid. Nancy found herself cringing, dreading the moment when he would speak.

"Nonna told me you two went fooling around her house, asking nonsense questions about tombstones," Michael said, standing very close to Tony and looking down at him. "What someone died of, why she died so young, how she knew your coach and why he would be so upset. These questions are disrespectful to people's grief. There is not a big exciting mystery behind it, and you will not use sad events for your own amusement. If you are bored then I can think of quite a few things you can do instead. _Stata zeet._ Am I clear?"

Tony had appeared sullen and embarrassed for the majority of the lecture. He looked up at Michael and nodded.

"Let me catch you messing around in other people's business again and you and I will have problems," Michael said. "I mean it, Tony. You've got to stop pushing me."

Michael turned to Nancy. "And I'm counting on you to be a good influence on my brother."

Nancy followed Tony's example, answering with only a simple nod.

Michael walked back to his truck, got in, and turned on the ignition. Nancy and Tony didn't move or speak until the truck had turned a corner in the distance.

"It is disrespectful to humiliate me in front of my girl," Tony muttered.

"I'm humiliated, not you. I should have told him that it's my fault we were researching headstones," Nancy said quietly. "How can I be a detective if I'm so cowardly? Your brother scared me just then."

"I'm sure he figured out that we were in it together," Tony said, taking her hand. "Michael's nobody to be afraid of. He gets like that when he means there's no more warnings. It's a good thing you didn't talk back to him because I want him to like you. He doesn't dislike you now, he just doesn't know you yet."

The mood for their special day had changed. The sun was just beginning to set in the sky; they both agreed that it might help Carson's opinion of Tony if Nancy got home a little bit early. Nancy risked riding on Tony's handlebars once again, and it was more of a thrill this time since she knew what to expect.

She had a distracted dinner with her father and stepmother and spent the evening on three-way with Bess and George, telling them everything. For some reason, they were much more interested in Nancy's boyfriend than her case.

Nancy did a Google search of Sophie Conners at the end of the evening. She tried the search in a variety of ways, but the internet revealed nothing about who she was or why she'd died young. She emailed Frank and Biff to tell them that she'd told Tony about the mystery and what had happened that day. She eventually received responses that it would not be a good idea to continue to interview people about Sophie, even other people their age; Bayport was a small town and word would quickly spread that they were looking into it.

Finally, Nancy conducted a lengthy Google search on Italian culture regarding death and grieving. None of the articles she found mentioned that it was considered disrespectful to ask why someone had died. She went to bed with a nagging feeling that Michael had overreacted.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed every chapter so far, regardless of twists and turns and which couple(s) you ship: Cherylann Rivers, max2013, sm2003495, katnissta, EvergreenDreamweaver, angelicalkiss, Jenni, and various Guests._

The next day, after arriving home from Sunday School, Nancy ate a quick lunch and ran upstairs. She changed her clothes and hastily checked her email, as Callie was due to arrive any second to pick her up. Tony had wanted to spend the afternoon with Frank and Joe; Nancy had been unsure of the etiquette involved, but Tony had dropped many hints that her presence was required. Since Nancy didn't want to be the only girl, Tony had asked Joe to invite Callie as well.

The subject line of an email caught Nancy's eye.

**To: [Callie Shaw]; [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Vanessa Bender]**

**9/23/18 11:03 a.m.**

**Re: Even More Slutty Behavior**

**Dear Acquaintances:**

**So the guys returned home this morning after the Scouts retreat, and my chemistry lab partner's little brother was there, and literally every single person in our entire school has read the tweet he posted about what you two went out there and did on Friday night. This kid saw Callie frantically throw herself at Frank's body in the woods, desperately trying to make out with him, until Frank finally had to restrain her from behind, cover her mouth, and eventually carry her away on his shoulders to try to control her lust.**

**So, what, the original plan was for Nancy to stand watch in the woods while Callie crept into Frank's sleeping bag with him (while Phil was sleeping next to them!), and then Plan B was for Nancy to take pictures while Callie made out with Frank in the woods? Really, Callie, all these years of pretending that Frank annoys you, and then you don't even tell me that you're planning to do this? I'm going to wait to text Iola until I hear from you. Are we all still friends, if we keep such sexual secrets from each other? And, if you made out with Frank, how was it?**

**In Severe Disappointment,**

**Van**

The doorbell rang. Nancy dropped her house key twice, her hands were shaking so severely. She swore and finally got the key and her phone into her pockets, yelling to her dad and Griselda that she'd be back for dinner.

"I'm so sorry," Nancy stammered to Callie as she shut her front door behind her. "I'm so tired of everybody always taking the fall for me. I'll make this right, I'll post on Twitter that it was because of me that we were at the Scouts retreat, please forgive me for the millionth time, Cal."

Callie gave Nancy a look of confusion, and then her expression cleared. "Oh, you're talking about Vanessa's email. I talked to her, everything's fine. I gave her the same explanation I gave Iola, that you and I went out there to scare Frank. She's still annoyed that she was out of the loop, but not as annoyed as she'd be if there was a make out that she didn't know about."

"Well, I guess that's good," Nancy said, her heartbeat slowing fractionally, "but what about what the entire school thinks about you and Frank? What should I do?"

"Absolutely nothing," Callie said, cupping Nancy's elbow briefly and guiding her toward the sideway and the path to the Hardys' house. "You shouldn't take the rumor mill so seriously, Nancy. Now that it's my turn in the hot seat, all I can do is wait for somebody else to do something stupider than what I just did. It shouldn't take too long, maybe a couple hours or a couple days. I plan to enjoy my time in the spotlight. Frank might not enjoy it, though. He's such a prude, it's just unbelievable. Every time I've ever talked about sex around him, he's started gagging and choking and everything."

Nancy was unconvinced; Callie spent the next several minutes trying to persuade Nancy that everything was fine and no action should be taken. Finally Callie changed the subject, bubbling with excitement.

"But oh my god, your Bestselling Novel!" Callie gushed. "You have the greatest way of writing. It was so crazy but you made Frank sound kind of dreamy. Over-the-top _Frank Hardy_! I was laughing so hard but I felt weird the whole time I was reading, and by the end I realized why…I could actually see Frank doing all those crazy things to catch the bad guys. Do you think all those extracurriculars he does could really be prepping him for detective work? It's like he'll know how to do anything in a pinch. You took all of Frank's intenseness but it didn't sound nerdy, it was like he used all his skills to become the greatest hero of all time."

Nancy thought of the sonnet Frank could write if he heard Callie speaking like this about him, and she turned her head to hide her smile.

Callie spent the remainder of the walk giving Nancy tips on how to make Miss Magpie even more evil, using techniques involving flesh-eating bacteria. "Remember how the face mask wouldn't come off Vanessa's face?" Callie asked.

Frank and Tony were dramatically preparing for their karate demonstration in the basement when the girls arrived. Mrs. Hardy yelled at them to put on their gear and go outside to practice, which was of course way too much of an inconvenience, so they began to play video games instead. There were only four controllers so Frank offered to sit out with Callie, despite Nancy's sincere begging to sit out. Callie seemed comfortable, but Frank seemed unable to make eye contact with Callie.

Nancy soon grew bored but forced herself to participate. Tony was obviously trying his best to divide his attention evenly between Nancy and Joe, and Nancy felt bad for him. She would have to get to know Joe a little more so they all could somehow make this new romantic relationship work without either her or Joe feeling like a third wheel.

Her character died again, finally a Game Over this time, so Nancy gratefully put down her controller. She frowned as she looked around her. Frank and Callie were no longer sitting on the couch with them but were on the floor, slightly off to the side but fortunately still within eavesdropping range.

"So, Callie," Frank said uncertainly in a low voice, "it's a little awkward for me to bring this up, but we need to have some kind of a game plan for what we're going to say at school tomorrow. One of the younger Scouts saw me carrying you through the woods on Friday, and now there's a story going around that you dragged Nancy along as a lookout to the Scouts retreat because you were attempting to, um, engage in sexual activities with me, and the bottom line is that people think that you…have a very high opinion of my reproductive system."

"Yeah, put your hands where we can see them, you two," Joe called out as the TV screen exploded in blood.

"We need to decide how we'll respond to comments like that," Frank added. "Biff Hooper…"

"I will take care of Biff," Callie declared, appearing not at all concerned that Biff was a foot and a half taller than her. "And I do not try to reason with people's ignorance. Let's give them something to talk about. And one-up these rumors for not being creative enough. If they say that you and I were demonstrating an orgasm to the entire troop in front of the bonfire, I will clarify that we were _actually_—"

Callie's next suggestion was so crude and against all laws of gravity that, for the next long moment, all other mouths were hanging open in shock, all eyes widened. Nancy wondered if Frank's fierce blush extended all the way to his toes. Tony's controller clattered to the floor, resulting in another Game Over. Joe knew he couldn't beat this boss by himself, so the video game was abandoned. The five teenagers headed outside to do nothing but loiter in the general neighborhood since none of them had any money.

There was one brief moment when Nancy was by herself, calling her dad to check in; when she hung up, Joe was standing in front of her. "Sorry I yelled at you at school last week," he mumbled. Nancy accepted his apology and that was the end of it.

Nancy noticed that Callie and Frank drifted off by themselves a couple of times, and she wondered what they were talking about. She decided not to ask Callie about it. Social pressure had not been helpful for her and Tony, and she no longer wanted to interfere in other people's relationships.

She smiled when she returned home that night: she'd received an email from Phil that she'd gotten an A on her prospectus, with no comments. She highly doubted that he'd read it at all.

That week at school, Callie did not take steps to try to curtail Biff's teasing, as she had stated that she would. Nancy perceived that Callie did, however, follow through on her promise to enjoy her time in the spotlight. Callie accepted the jokes with a good attitude and said nothing to contradict the rumors; Frank seemed to cautiously follow her lead.

Nancy was grounded during that school week for sneaking out of the house. She used the time to catch up on her homework and get a head start on future assignments. She only saw Tony at school, which was frustrating, but it made her time with him that much more special. She finished Persuasion; and, interestingly enough, the book never quite answered the question about when a young woman should accept advice from well-meaning people who love her, versus when she should follow her own instincts. The heroine had ended up with the appropriate man, but the woman who had given the heroine advice not to marry him previously had never been villainized. Nancy figured it was part of the complicated mystery of learning to think and behave with "discretion."

**To: [Nancy Drew]; [Tony Prito]; [Alan Hooper]**

**From: [Frank Hardy]**

**9/27/18 9:23 p.m.**

**Re: Case Summarization**

**Team:**

**I think we are far enough along in our case that we should begin to have weekly summarizations of clues so far.**

**9/3 Nancy intercepts a note from Coach Hafetz to Miss Swain stating MEET ME IN THE GYM FRIDAY THE 7****TH**** AT 4:00 IF YOU WANT ME TO SLIP YOU THE PACKAGE**

**9/7 My mom goes to the school gym to intercept the meeting. She never told us what happened and, if we ask her about it now, she'll get suspicious.**

**9/21 Miss Swain leaves the detention room shortly before 4:00 with her purse. Biff and Nancy find a note in her desk from Coach Hafetz stating THIS HAS GOT TO END. LET'S MOVE ON TO PLAN B: THE PERMANENT SOLUTION. Later that night, Nancy, Callie, and I observe Coach Hafetz in Bayport Cemetery muttering "Not again. I promise. I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again." at the gravesite of Sophie Connors, who died in 1992 when she was 22. **

**Has anyone else heard the recent rumors that Miss Swain has a new boyfriend that nobody's seen (possibly an online relationship)? If these rumors are true, then we can assume that Miss Swain's affair with Coach Hafetz is over (if they ever were having an affair). Was the "permanent solution" for Coach and Miss Swain to break up? Was Coach's late-night vigil at the graveyard to promise his former girlfriend that he would never cheat on a woman again? **

**There are already four of us in on this case, and I am of the firm opinion that we need to keep our group small in order to keep the case contained. However, I ask only for one favor…is there any way that we can tell Joe? If Joe ever finds out that Tony and I didn't tell him about our first mystery, he will be extremely irate. Joe is very unpleasant to live with when he's irate.**

**Biff, thanks for agreeing to be the lookout tomorrow for another 4:00 Friday meeting between Coach Hafetz and Miss Swain. I'll be distracted, leaving football practice early to run down to the fire hall and do the karate demonstration with Tony for the new student recruitment class.**

**Frank**

**To: [Nancy Drew]; [Alan Hooper]**

**From: [Frank Hardy]**

**9/27/18 9:34 p.m.**

**Re: P.S.**

**Team:**

**Please note that I've removed Tony's name from this second email.**

**Tony and I met for a tutoring session tonight, and he mentioned something that may or may not be significant. He said that Miss Swain stopped by Mr. Pizza constantly over this past summer, flirting and taking forever to check out at the register, and his family had begun to tease Michael about it. Tony had forgotten about her visits because Polly Morton started stopping by Mr. Pizza more often, Miss Swain not as much since the school year started, and Polly is closer to Michael's age. Tony was laughing while he was telling me this, evidently assuming that Miss Swain's flirting must be a coincidence and have no relevance to our case.**

**Does anyone else think that Michael's reaction to Nancy and Tony's research about Sophie Conners was a bit defensive, like there's something about her death that he (and his nonna) don't want us to know? Sophie died in 1992 and Michael was born in 1998 so I don't see what possible connection they could have to each other.**

**Frank**

**To: [Nancy Drew]**

**From: [Frank Hardy]**

**9/27/18 9:37 p.m.**

**Re: P.P.S.**

**Nancy,**

**I heard that Callie is looking for a French tutor. Just between you and me…how do you think she would respond if I offered to tutor her?**

**Frank**


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I sincerely appreciate all those who read and respond. It is a great privilege to have so many consistent reviewers (and new PM friendships). For those enjoying a holiday weekend, I hope there is a parade and a family picnic in your near future. You guys keep me writing! _

Nancy walked briskly to the fire hall that Friday afternoon, a little late for the 5:15 new karate student recruitment class. She had already gotten permission from her father to sign up for the beginners' class, and she was only going this afternoon to see Tony's demonstration with Frank. Frank had left football practice early to get to the fire hall on time.

She got a call from Biff right before she opened the door. She decided to skip the rest of the class's opening introductions and answer it.

"Nancy," Biff said, and his tone sounded off. Guarded, careful.

"What is it? Oh! It's Friday afternoon! Did you see another 4:00 meeting between the teachers?" Nancy felt guilty about how excited she felt.

"That's what I'm calling about. I have to get back to football practice. But I need to speak to you and Frank right away about our mystery."

Nancy screeched with delight. "Sorry, that was right in your ear. So you saw something! I'm not grounded anymore, so maybe we all can meet up tomorrow. Tony will want to come, too."

"No, Nancy," Biff said, "Tony's not invited. My news involves his brother."

Nancy stood still. Her good feelings from a moment ago were beginning to deflate. She looked through the fire hall window and saw Frank and Tony walking to the front of the class for their demonstration, protective gear on.

"I have to go," she said. "Okay. And thanks, Biff. We'll talk later." She turned off her phone and walked into the building. Joe waved her over to where he was sitting on the floor along with six other adolescents, more or less their age. Nancy felt grateful to see that this White Belt class was age restricted, with no little kids or adults in the class with them. Three instructors stood in front of them, introducing the moves that Tony and Frank would be demonstrating on each other.

"We need to talk right after class. In private," Joe whispered to Nancy as she sat next to him.

Nancy nodded distractedly and tried to make eye contact with Tony, but Tony was focused only on Frank.

"We'll start with a jab," the instructor said, and Tony punched Frank a little too hard in the shoulder. Frank lost his balance but easily regained it.

"And, uh, now a roundhouse kick that Frank will block," the instructor continued. Tony kicked Frank in the abdomen, fast and hard. Frank lost his breath and doubled over.

Tony released a torrent of karate moves that Frank was unable to evade or block. Frank fell to the ground and stayed down, a hand over his nose. Blood trickled between his fingers.

"Tony, stop," Nancy called out desperately. Joe swore and put a firm hand on Nancy's shoulder, keeping her in place. Frank crawled backwards on the ground as an instructor attempted to restrain Tony. Tony spun to the side and twisted out of the hold.

Two instructors together succeeded in restraining Tony. Frank looked at his hand, covered in blood, and up again at Tony. Frank's expression held a mixture of shock and fear, while Tony's held murderous rage.

"You are a liar. And you're _fake_," Tony said to Frank, breathing heavily. "I'll never think of you the same way again."

Tony's attack had lasted less than fifteen seconds. The class sat in mute shock.

The instructor directly behind Tony adjusted the restraint, holding Tony from behind and clasping Tony's wrists in his hands. "Mr. Prito. That is enough. Are you able to walk to the back of the room? If you try anything else, I'll carry you."

Tony took a long moment to glare in Frank's direction. Finally he nodded. He walked to the back of the room with the instructor, who pulled out his cell phone to make a call. Soon Tony had taken his gear off and was doing push-ups. Another instructor carefully helped Frank up and offered support, quietly asking first aide questions. Frank limped to the bathroom, drops of blood leaving a dotted trail.

"Well. The demonstration didn't exactly go as planned, so it looks like I'm on my own," the third instructor said dryly. "Everyone stay seated and I'll show you myself. In this White Belt class, you will learn how to complete jabs, blocks, and roundhouse kicks."

Nancy immediately tuned out. She turned helplessly to Joe. "What do we do?" she whispered urgently.

Joe shook his head and took his hand off her shoulder. "We can't do anything. We'd only make it worse. And I hate to say it, but that instructor just made a call on his phone."

"What does that mean?" Nancy asked.

"It means," Joe said, sounding pained, "that you might want to close your eyes when the door opens."

Several minutes later, the class heard the sound of squealing breaks and a vehicle door opening outside. Nancy kept her eyes open.

The fire hall door banged open and Michael entered, his eyes quickly scanning the room and then focusing on Tony. Tony stopped doing push-ups and sat on the floor. Michael crossed the room and crouched down in front of him. The class was now hopelessly distracted, yet perfectly silent, waiting to see what would happen.

"Did you do this?" Michael asked Tony, his voice hard. "Did you just beat up a very good friend of yours when you could have talked out your problems instead?"

Tony began to give a quiet explanation that was too low for Nancy to hear. Michael soon cut him off.

"Get up," Michael ordered, standing himself, and Tony immediately complied. Michael grasped Tony firmly by one ear and Tony yelped in protest. Michael headed swiftly and with purpose toward the side of the room, which forced Tony to turn his head and clumsily sidestep to keep up.

"Making him apologize to Frank," Joe muttered to Nancy, but she had guessed as much. The two brothers disappeared into the bathroom for a very short period of time and then re-emerged, Tony's ear still firmly gripped between Michael's fingers, Tony continuing his awkward dance on their way toward the exit.

Michael turned around in front of the door. "And now apologize to the whole class," he commanded.

"Ow! I'm sorry," Tony whined. Nancy felt weirdly grateful that Tony appeared to be in too much pain and discomfort to feel embarrassment. He looked very much like a little boy in trouble.

Michael turned to the instructors. "Follow the rulebook with him. Throw him out if you need to. And I will also take care of this myself." Michael took Tony outside and the door closed behind them.

Nancy's heart pounded. Her vision blurred with tears and she blinked them away. The class got more or less back on track, but the mood had changed, and fifteen minutes later the event ended early. Surprisingly, the majority of potential students enrolled. "I want to learn how to fight like that," she heard one teen say to another. The clipboard came to her and Nancy's hand was shaking too hard to sign her name. Joe signed up for the both of them and had to spend several minutes tersely denying their peers gossip on what had prompted the fight. Finally the other students began to move away from them and leave, fiddling on their phones.

An instructor emerged from the bathroom and approached Joe. "Frank is a little banged up, but he'll be okay," he said. "He's doing his own first aide in there, and he's pretty good at it. Your mom is coming soon to pick you both up."

Joe nodded. He and Nancy were soon alone again. "So what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"It's my fault," Joe said resignedly. "Frank had to come here directly from football practice, so I told Tony that this afternoon would be a good opportunity to raid Frank's room. And in Frank's Ten-Year Career Plan folder we found a story you'd written. Some of the most flattering parts you wrote about Frank were highlighted. He'd written notes all over it, underlined sentences, really marking it up, even more than he does to his favorite textbooks."

This information was so overwhelming to Nancy that she had no idea how to feel. "What?" she asked numbly.

"I tried to get it out of Tony's hands but he sidestepped me and locked himself in the bathroom and read it. He told me the real reason why you and Callie were at the Scouts retreat, and he kept insisting that Frank had promised that Phil had deleted your story. Tony was freaking out that Frank had lied." Joe gave Nancy a strange look. "Nancy, are you and Frank...?"

"No! I have no idea why he decided to keep it." Nancy shook her head. "I wish I'd never written that novel. I don't want to hear about this right now. Now that we know that Frank is okay, all I care about is what is happening to Tony."

"I never saw this fight coming. I knew that Tony was fuming mad, but I never thought he would…" Joe's phone beeped that he had a text. He checked his phone and looked up at Nancy.

"Your phone's off," he said. "Tony's been trying to call you. He's at his house by himself and he wants you to go there alone and let yourself in. Well, at least now I'm not in the position of choosing between my brother and my best friend." There was a bitterness in Joe's tone that bothered Nancy.

"We'll work out a way to share Tony," Nancy told Joe. "You and I will become friends and nobody will be left out. Tell Frank that I'm sorry about how this turned out and I hope he heals right away."

Joe nodded noncommittally. Nancy turned her phone back on and ran the whole way to Tony's house. She knew where it was because of previous group outings, but she had never been inside. She tentatively opened the door. "Tony?" she called softly.

"Up here," he responded, his voice subdued, and Nancy ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. Tony lay in his bed, which was against the right wall. His karate uniform was still on. He looked tired and sad.

"I'm not bruised. Just sore," Tony said, staring fixedly at the ceiling. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

"What happened?" Nancy asked urgently.

Tony briefly put a hand over his eyes. "His belt. He bent me over my bed. Nancy, please, I don't want to talk about it, and I swear I will never go to school again if even one person finds out."

"I swear on my mother's grave, I'll never say anything," Nancy said as she took off her shoes and crawled under the covers with him. Tony winced as he moved over to accommodate her. He had a single bed, with two pillows, and they lay facing each other.

"First of all, you need hugs and kisses," Nancy decided. She gently wrapped her top arm around his shoulders and kissed him all over his face.

"Well…okay," Tony said, and smiled slightly at Nancy's ministrations.

Nancy soon pulled back. "So, I mean, is it over? Are you grounded, or thrown out of karate?"

"I'm pretty sure after that dramatic scene that the instructors will go easy on me. And I'm 'on observation' this weekend, which means that I have to be in Michael's presence unless I'm home or at the Hardys' house, apologizing to the entire family. Michael's hoping I'll go over there of my own choice, but if I don't, he'll probably take me there. He went back to work." Tony finally met Nancy's eyes. "I feel stupid, Nancy," he said. "And I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Joe told me that you guys found my novel in Frank's bedroom. Are you mad at me?" Nancy asked quietly. "Because of what I wrote in the novel?"

"No. You told me everything that happened and you even offered to let me read it. It's just…" Tony exhaled. "I know Frank very well, or I thought I did. If he printed out your story, and wrote all over it and used footnotes and highlights and underlines, and put it in his all-important Ten-Year Career Plan folder, then it really means something to him. And I still might have been able to handle it if he hadn't lied to you about deleting the file and if he'd told me about it—he knows that you and I are together. I mean, it was like finding love letters from you to him. I was so shocked and so mad, and then there he was standing in front of me in a karate stance and I just went off. I can't believe Frank would do something so disrespectful."

"Tony, not everything in the world is about respect and disrespect," Nancy said wearily. Tony's phone rang and she handed it to him from his nightstand.

Tony frowned. "It's Callie." He answered it.

At first Nancy thought that it was set to speakerphone, but then she realized that Callie was shouting. "Tony?" Callie barked. "I'll be there in two minutes. I'm coming up."

Tony reached over and put the phone back. "It's not good when Callie's not happy," he said in trepidation.

True to her word, Callie soon pounded up the stairs and into Tony's bedroom. "Get out of bed and face me," she snapped at Tony. "Hi, Nancy. I'm sorry, but I have to start this meeting by yelling at your boyfriend. Seriously, Tony?! Joe told us everything that happened. What is wrong with you? You went apeshit on Frank after all he does for you?"

"I shouldn't have done that, and I'm going to apologize to him again. But Frank said that the file for Nancy's novel was permanently deleted," Tony said, mildly defensive. "He lied, Cal. And then he marks it all up, like he's just marinating in my girlfriend's attraction toward him. This wouldn't have happened if Frank hadn't treated Nancy and me with total and complete disrespect."

"No. This wouldn't have happened if you and Joe didn't search through Frank's bedroom all the time," Callie corrected. "Talk about disrespect. Well. Since you don't believe in personal space." She began rooting through Tony's closet and dresser drawers.

"Go ahead," Tony said, and Nancy was grateful to hear that he sounded a little bit better, even amused. "I have nothing to hide."

"Eww—gross!" Callie shrieked, throwing a very ripe-smelling T-shirt at Tony. "We will continue this bedroom search after you improve your hygiene. And now, Nancy, I need to apologize to you." Callie sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on top of Nancy's.

"What?" Nancy asked dumbly.

Callie looked uncomfortable. "Frank told us on the night of the Scouts retreat, plus he told me again when we were hanging out on Sunday, just how much your novel means to him. He couldn't believe that you think so highly of him. So I told him that the _dreams_ you have for him could become the _goals_ that he sets for himself. Not exactly, of course, because some of the things that happen in your novel are not things that civilized people should do, but general skills, you know? Frank explained to me how you and he have always kind of understood each other, like you have a connection."

"That's it," Nancy mused. "Yes. Frank and I don't have an attraction as much as we have a connection."

"That's terrific news, Nancy," Tony mumbled, with some sulk and sarcasm.

Callie ignored him. "I told Frank that I didn't think you'd mind if he kept your novel, Nancy, since you knew that he'd already read it. I forwarded the file to him. If I'd thought he'd print it out, I might have remembered that Joe and Tony go spelunking in Frank's room sometimes. I didn't ask you because I was afraid that you'd say no just because you were embarrassed about it, when really there's no reason to be embarrassed about it…it's still no excuse, though, and I'm so sorry.""

"Then this is all just a big misunderstanding, just like the sitcoms," Nancy said, finally feeling that the situation could be salvageable.

Callie stared at her. "It's not a misunderstanding. I forwarded your novel to Frank without asking you first."

"I never told you that you weren't allowed to forward it," Nancy said. "There's nothing to apologize for. But if you feel bad, just remember all of the things I've had to apologize to you for recently." Nancy sat up in bed and she and Callie hugged.

Tony had his hands behind his head, staring into space. "So you forwarded it to him, Cal," he said slowly. "That really surprises me because this past week, I kind of thought that you and Frank…well, I would think that you wouldn't want him to have it."

"Frank and Nancy's connection is nothing that we should feel threatened by, Tony," Callie said with an eye roll. "It's just something that you and I need to respect. Frank and Nancy make each other better people, and we want them to become the best detectives they can possibly be, right? But, if you're sure that you and I are good, Nancy, I need to get over to the Hardys' house and make sure that Frank is okay."

"We'll always be good, Cal." The girls smiled at each other, Callie gave Tony one more withering look, and Callie left.

There was a short pause. "Well," Tony said, "I'm still not happy about all of this, but now I feel even stupider. And it's going to be pretty embarrassing, limping over there tonight to apologize. And my whole career is ruined, too. I can only understand math the way that Frank teaches it to me, and I've humiliated him in front of a roomful of people."

Nancy decided not to voice her opinion on whether Frank or Tony had been more humiliated that afternoon. "Frank's not like that," she said. "You guys will talk it out."

Tony turned his head to look at her. "Monkey," he said. "Are you happy that Frank wanted to keep your novel?"

Nancy took a moment to consider how to put her feelings into words. "I'm happy that my writing inspired someone," she decided. "Novels should make people feel and think, so that novel has done what it meant to do."

"You have a very interesting way of writing, Nancy. I like it," Tony said. "I'm looking forward to the story you're going to write for my birthday next year."

Nancy's phone rang.

"Nancy?" Iola sounded angry.

"Oh, you heard too? I think things are going to work out," Nancy said, glancing at Tony.

"You guys will have to forgive Joe. We pumped him for information until he caved in. Nobody besides our friends knows about your novel, though, Nancy. There are a few interesting rumors going around about why Tony attacked Frank…I think you guys should stay off social media for a while. But I can't _believe_ Phil was so thoughtless and insensitive to show Frank the novel. He should have talked to you directly, Nancy. I'm going to his house right now to scream at him about it."

"No! Iola," Nancy squeaked, "We don't need any more fights."

"I'm glad things are working out, but I'm still going to handle this. Phil needs to get his head out of the books and learn some common sense."

Nancy and Tony had to spend the next several minutes trying to convince Iola to go easy on Phil. Finally the three of them compromised that Iola was allowed to yell at Phil for sixty seconds or less, teach him some ways to improve his social perception in the future, and try her best to only be mad at Phil for the rest of the day.

Tony turned away from Nancy and faced the wall. "Today has really sucked ass, Nancy. It wasn't fun finding your novel, and then I hurt Frank, got dragged out of karate by my ear, Callie's mad at me, now Phil and Iola are fighting, who knows what rumors are flying around, and my career is over because Frank won't want to teach me math anymore…plus you're here in my bedroom after I promised your dad I wouldn't bring you here."

"You only promised my dad about that one day," Nancy pointed out.

"We don't know that. They _should_ kick me out of karate because I have no honor." Tony sighed. "I have to let Frank keep your novel, to prove to him that I'm sorry. And I'm also going to have to offer Frank the chance to kick me in the nuts. At school, even, if he wants to. It's only right."

Nancy frowned and quickly abandoned the attempt to make sense of this machismo logic. She decided to find out if Tony was ticklish. He was, and he alternated between giggles and ouches.

Tony eventually restrained Nancy, grasping both of her elbows, and Nancy realized just how easily he could have restrained her all along. "Thanks for being here with me, Nancy," Tony said.

His phone beeped. Nancy handed it to him.

Tony raised his eyebrows at the screen. "Joe is telling me not to worry too much about Frank. Callie is over there tucking him in with blankets and bringing him ice packs and tea. And they're talking to each other in French…what?...apparently they just decided that Frank will be Callie's new French tutor."

"How about that," Nancy said. She leaned in and kissed Tony's nose. "Why don't you apologize to Frank in the morning. And then you all can have a boys' day together to make sure nothing will be weird."

"We are not boys. We are _guys_," Tony corrected. His eyelids drooped.

Nancy figured it would actually be more comfortable to both face the same way in the bed. She told Tony to roll over and held him from behind as he drifted off to sleep.

Nancy faded in and out of sleep for a few minutes, and then grudgingly forced herself awake. It was almost dark out. She also didn't want to find out what the consequences were if someone in Tony's family found them asleep in bed together, even if it was just another bucket of water. She used her phone to take a cute picture of Tony sleeping, then gingerly slid out of bed and reached for her shoes.

Tony had a small bedroom, definitely lived in but neater than Nancy would have expected. Tony simply didn't have many belongings. And Callie had been right about his teen male lack of laundry priorities: the smell was definitely a little off. Nancy crouched and put her shoes on. As she began to stand up, she noticed a small piece of paper under Tony's chest of drawers, alone and totally out of place.

Without allowing herself to consider her choice, Nancy reached out and took it.

It was a ripped off square piece of plain computer paper. It said simply, "Dr. Jansen Young," with a phone number. Nancy wouldn't have thought much of it, but she recognized the handwriting from two other notes she'd seen. The name and number had been written by Coach Hafetz.

Nancy turned sharply toward Tony's bed, staring at his sleeping figure. She firmly told herself that there was no way he would have more information about their mystery and not tell her about it. So who else had been in Tony's bedroom recently? Callie, but they all would have seen if a piece of paper had dropped out of her jeans pocket.

_Michael._

Nancy remembered Biff's urgent phone call before karate. He'd told her that they needed to speak alone, without Tony, because he had news about Michael.

Nancy took a picture of the note with her phone and put it back exactly the way she'd found it. She walked silently out of Tony's bedroom and into the hallway.

It was obvious which bedroom was Tony's parents', as it had a double bed. There was one final bedroom on her right hand side, with the door open. She stood in the doorway and recognized Michael's clothes, thrown haphazardly on a chair and on the floor. A dresser had one drawer slightly open.

If she quickly searched Michael's bedroom, no one would ever know.

Nancy swiftly but softly ran down the steps and out the front door.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thanks for continuing on with this story! We are approximately at the halfway point. This chapter is more about the mystery, but there are many chapters coming up that aren't. I'm afraid that readers are going to be able to figure out the mystery early; if you do, I hope the character interactions keep you hanging around. To plagiarize an excellent writer that I know, please "don't forget to leave your mark and let me know you were here!" JB _

Nancy, Biff, and Frank met at the local park at 8:00 the following morning. They knew they'd be the only young people awake at this time of day on a weekend. It was the last Saturday in September.

Fortunately, Frank's face only had some mild bruising around his nose. He explained that the worst of the bruises were covered by his clothes.

"Tony's going to your house to apologize this morning," Nancy said, assessing Frank's reaction. She and Frank were sitting next to each other on the swings.

"I'll accept his apology. And I might have to send him a thank-you note." Frank smiled to himself, and Nancy could guess that he was thinking about how Callie had nursed him back to health the previous evening. "Callie and I created a contract that he and Joe will be required to sign, detailing the consequences if they ever search my bedroom again. And Nancy, are you and I okay? I knew that Callie hadn't asked your permission to send me your novel."

Nancy had decided on her response ahead of time. "Just like it was flattering for you to have me write about you like that, it is a writer's greatest compliment to have someone analyze a story so closely. It's an honor that you included my novel in your Ten-Year Career Plan. Plus," she added on a whim, "it's good to know that you're capable of making a tiny mistake every now and then. You can be a little intimidating sometimes with how perfect you are, Frank."

Frank and Nancy smiled at each other.

"Uhhh, I'm sitting right here?" Biff said from the top of the jungle gym. "I can pull out my phone and Facetime Tony and Callie, if you guys want me to."

Frank turned to him. "Seriously, Biff, have mercy at school on Monday. Please don't say anything about Nancy's novel, and, please, no more jokes about me and Callie. I might have…enjoyed them, to some degree, and I could tell that Callie didn't mind, but I'd like things between her and me to progress naturally now."

"Or maybe things between you and her will progress more naturally if I keep telling jokes."

"Please, Biff. We are brothers, on the football team together. As a personal favor to me." Frank held Biff's gaze.

To Nancy's surprise, Biff agreed, hopped off the jungle gym and shook Frank's hand. Then Biff carefully straddled his vast frame on a bouncy seahorse. "It's not going to be much of a sacrifice, anyway," he said. "All of that is ancient history. The real gossip is that everyone thinks that Tony gave you a beat down because he wanted Nancy and Callie to both be his girlfriends at the same time."

"And that's the last straw. I'm done caring about school gossip," Nancy said with an eye roll. "Are all high schools this messed up, or is everyone in Bayport bored or something? I'll have to ask my friends if River Heights High is the same way."

"The rumor is that Tony called Frank a liar because Frank was in on the plan and had agreed to lure Callie to one of the Prito Construction wrecking balls to reenact Miley Cyrus's music video—"

"The mystery, please, Biff," Nancy interrupted, becoming excited. "What did you see?"

Biff looked at Frank. "You're sure that you're not mad at Tony. In any way. You shouldn't hear this if you and he aren't cool."

"He and I will be cool after he apologizes today. And I have made a mental note never to piss him off again," Frank answered.

"Okay." Biff crossed his arms. "I went into the gym and stood under the bleachers at 3:50 yesterday, and I looked between the benches to see if there would be another teacher meeting."

"Wow," Nancy commented, impressed that Biff could avoid detection when he was so huge.

"Coach came into the gym just before 4:00," Biff continued. "And at exactly 4:00, Michael Prito came into the gym by the back door. Their meeting lasted less than a minute."

Frank's eyes were wide.

"I was too far away to hear anything they said," Biff said. "First Coach handed Michael a small piece of paper and spoke for a little bit. Then he pulled something else out of his pocket, so small I couldn't see any of it, and put it carefully in Michael's other hand. Michael immediately put both of the items in his back pockets. Coach said something else, shaking his head and holding his hands up surrender-style. Michael never really spoke much, just nodded. He held his hand out to Coach for handshake, which Coach eventually returned, and then they each left the way they'd come."

Nancy absorbed the news. She didn't like it.

Frank looked a mixture of surprised and troubled. "So Miss Swain has been replaced by Michael. It looks like this isn't about an affair. What's your guess about what Coach was saying, Biff?"

"Based on his body language, it looked like he wasn't too happy to be at the meeting in the first place," Biff said. "I think he gave Michael some information about the two items and then said something like 'suit yourself' or 'count me out' or 'you shouldn't be doing this.'"

"I think I know what the first item is," Nancy said, taking out her cell phone and showing them the picture of the piece of paper she'd found the previous evening. "I found it yesterday, on Tony's bedroom floor, and I think it fell out of Michael's pocket. This note is in Coach's handwriting. I don't think that Tony saw it before I was in his room yesterday, but he might have seen it by now. I googled the doctor's name when I got home. Dr. Jansen Young is a primary care doctor whose office is an hour and a half away from Bayport. None of the phone numbers on his website match this number. I do think that Jansen is a unique enough name that I found the right guy, so maybe Coach gave Michael a private phone number."

"So Michael might be sick. He works strenuous jobs and appears healthy, but there are plenty of illnesses that don't make a person look sick," Frank said, but he sounded unconvinced. "Or maybe he knows somebody who's sick and is trying to get them help."

"Primary care doctors are the regular kind of family doctor, the kind without special knowledge," Nancy continued. "Maybe you guys already knew that, sorry. I had to brush up on health care terms last night because it looks like we will need to know them. So if Michael is so sick that he needs Coach's help, wouldn't he want to see a specialist? And why hide it with secret meetings? Is Michael afraid that his family will be upset if they find out that he's sick? And there are plenty of doctors in Bayport, so there must be a reason to want to see a doctor who's an hour and a half away. And why does he need to know a doctor's unlisted number instead of calling the number on the patient website like all the other patients?"

"Biff, could the other item have been a bottle of pills?" Frank asked.

Biff shook his head. "A bottle of pills would have been too big. It could have been a few individual pills, wrapped up."

"Damn," Frank said. "This is…weird." He sighed. "And I was just going to ask you guys again to let me bring in Joe on the case. But he's Tony's best friend. Well, you're Tony's girlfriend, Nancy, and if you can handle keeping this from Tony, I guess Joe can too?"

"So we've decided to keep these new developments from Tony?" Nancy asked. "And, if you're going to bring in Joe, I want to bring in the girls."

"Then I want to bring in the whole football team," Biff said sarcastically.

Frank shook his head. "All right, no Joe," he said, sounding tired.

Nancy sighed and looked at Biff. "Let's bring in Joe. He knows Tony the best and probably has the most opportunity to be near Michael. And, after this, we'll tell absolutely no one else. We need to use good discretion."

Biff shrugged but didn't look happy about it. "All right, as long as it goes no farther than Joe. This affects people's lives, and now it looks like somebody could be very sick. And I think the four of us should all vote on it before we tell Tony anything more. If Tony freaked out yesterday over a novel that Nancy wrote, imagine how much more he might freak out about whatever's going on with his brother."

"Okay," Nancy agreed.

Frank exhaled deeply. "Yes. And thank you. Thank both of you."

"And I found out who Sophie Conners was," Biff continued.

Frank and Nancy looked at him in surprise.

"I finally stopped with all the research that wasn't going anywhere and asked my mom. She's not really friends with other parents, so I don't think she'd have much opportunity to gossip with anyone about why I might have asked. I told her that I saw a gravestone of somebody who died way too young." Biff shrugged. "Sophie was Coach Hafetz's older sister."

"How did she die?" Frank asked.

"When I asked my mom, she told me to stop with the morbid questions and not to ask anyone else about it, either."

"Michael was mad at me and Tony for looking into it, too," Nancy said. "Why is it such a big deal? It's such a painful subject that they can't even give us a quick answer 26 years later?"

They brainstormed a few unconvincing theories, and finally agreed that they should wait until next Friday at 4:00 to see if there was another meeting, continue to try to find out how Sophie Conners had died, and keep an eye on Coach and Michael. It went without saying that Frank and Biff had the most opportunity to keep an eye on their football coach, while Joe and Nancy had the most opportunity to keep an eye on Michael.

Ndhb

"Good afternoon, Griselda," Laura Hardy said with a smile, and Griselda returned the welcome.

Griselda stood aside and gestured Laura into her house and toward the dining room table. Laura entered and saw two filled wine glasses.

"Oh, no thank you…oh, what the hell." Laura sat in front of a wine glass and took a sip.

Griselda sat angled from her, her expression friendly, yet serious. "Thank you so much for calling me just now, Laura."

Laura gave her a quizzical look. "I'm surprised you're thanking me for calling you without warning on a Saturday afternoon and asking you to drop everything. I heard from Joe that all of the girls are spending the day together. Did Nancy get Joe's message that Michael confiscated Tony's phone?"

"Yes, she did, thanks. And Nancy is spending very _exciting_ time with the girls, since Polly Morton is giving them tips on how to do their hair. I don't think any of them care about their hair as much as spending time with a cool 18-year-old," Griselda said with a grin.

"We spend our youth trying to be older, and our adulthood trying to be younger," Laura mused. "So Polly is another idea, then. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

Griselda leaned forward. "Before you begin. It's not difficult to guess that you want to talk about Nancy, and I want to say that I'll be grateful for any kind of insight or advice you can give me. You know the kids in our neighborhood and I don't. Please don't worry about stepping on toes, or sugarcoating anything, or hurting my or Carson's feelings." Griselda sat back once more and swirled her wine. "Being a new stepmother is part coaxing, part mediating, part scapegoat…well, I am the reason Nancy's life has turned upside down. Carson and I discussed our options extensively before we married, but I'll always have the nagging feeling that maybe I should have moved to River Heights. The housing market isn't great there, and his house hasn't sold yet, whereas my house would have sold immediately. Anyway, I'm at 'advanced medical age' to have children, plus I have…a medical condition…so Nancy is it for us."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Laura said. "And I can tell that Nancy is special to you."

"All right, and maybe I like her anyway, I'll admit that. What a personality." Griselda took a long sip.

Laura paused. "Carson…?"

"He's taking a nap. The legal field is not known for 40-hour workweeks, and his new job is exhausting him. If he wakes up, he wakes up."

Laura slowly nodded. Maybe it was better that she was meeting only with Griselda; Carson had appeared rather overprotective of Nancy and might become upset or defensive. "I've never considered Bayport to be an especially exciting place to live—which means it's not dangerous, either, so it's a decently good place to raise kids—but Nancy has managed to find excitement everywhere she goes. Fenton asked me this morning what my opinion was on encouraging Frank and Joe not to be friends with her."

"What?" Griselda looked worried.

"First Joe was angry with Nancy about breaking his best friend's heart, and now he's moping that Nancy has stolen his best friend," Laura continued. "And when we got the call last week about Frank breaking curfew during the Scouts retreat, Frank came home the following day and was obviously holding back some details about it. Frank has never lied to us before, that we know of, and it shocked Fenton more than anything else. And Frank again held back some details yesterday about why Tony attacked him at karate, but we know that Nancy is involved somehow….well, Fenton and I realized that sometimes we also are guilty of forgetting that Frank is only a 15-year-old boy. The boys are friends again now, having a nice day together, but Nancy does seem to be the common denominator in these dramatic episodes."

"I was sorry to hear about the karate fight yesterday, and glad to hear that Frank is okay. But Nancy never _intends_ to—" Griselda began.

"I know she doesn't," Laura interrupted. "It didn't take long to remind Fenton that forbidding teenagers from relationships tends to backfire. I have a very high opinion of Nancy, and I called you today because I don't want Nancy to become the scapegoat for the neighborhood's problems. And I also want to tell you that Nancy might have been looking so hard for a mystery that she stumbled on something much more complicated than she realized."

Griselda sat fully at attention.

"Nancy intercepted a note between the football coach and the upper grade English teacher, making an arrangement for a secret meeting in the school gym to 'slip a package,'" Laura continued. "I told Nancy during our writing interview to let me take care of it instead, and my husband waited in the car. Fenton and I both thought that the teachers were having an affair—the football coach is married with children—but something about the meeting that day didn't feel right. I told Miss Swain and Coach Hafetz that a student had read their note, but they didn't appear very embarrassed about it. They gave me a pathetic story that this was their first meeting and nothing had happened yet, and neither of them seemed too heartbroken when they promised that the affair would stop."

"Good Lord," Griselda commented.

"The area of the gym that they met in was not exactly conducive to an affair. And it was timed for only minutes before Coach had to head outside for football practice. Coach Hafetz had nothing in his hands and Miss Swain only had her small purse. So where was the package? It seems so amateurish, silly even, meeting at the school when they could meet anywhere else. You know…I'm going to ask Fenton to look into this some more," Laura decided. "With everything that's been happening recently, we want to rule out that the kids are investigating. I'm afraid that if we come out and ask them, they'll clam up and take further steps to hide information from us. I shouldn't have asked Frank to keep an eye out for Nancy at the gym that day, now that I know that he's capable of keeping secrets. I have a hunch that this is a very inappropriate first mystery for our kids."

Griselda had sat perfectly still. She only spoke when Laura had been silent for several moments. "Unless you advise me otherwise, Laura, I think I'm not going to tell Carson about this just yet. He's not going to be able to prevent Nancy from investigating, since it's a school mystery and she's at school all day, and I won't be able to keep talking him out of his horrible plan to sign up Nancy for an after-school club. He hates that Nancy comes home to an empty house every day, but I think that final loss of freedom would be her tipping point into full rebellion."

"She could come to my house for a couple of hours after school," Laura offered. "On the days that Fenton or I am there."

Griselda gave Laura a look filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much for that offer, and I might take you up on it someday, but I'm afraid that suggestion would make Carson quite concerned that Nancy was spending so much time with boys, and in an intimate environment."

"Understandable. I won't give an opinion about what you should tell your husband or not, but I can certainly promise to inform you the minute Fenton has any updates about the case. And we have no reason to think that Nancy is still involved in any of this," Laura said in cautious optimism. "But after what we've seen of her…determined personality…we can't rule it out, either. Nancy desperately wants to be part of something meaningful, but she's incredibly naïve."

"I think she's bored in school, too smart for it, with class subjects that don't interest her. Nancy tries to do the right thing, but she's so thirsty for life to begin. Everything is all or nothing with her," Griselda said.

"Chaos seems to follow her, but she has such a compelling, genuinely eager personality that she was able to make a good group of friends immediately and retain them through all her misadventures," Laura said. "I can see why she and Tony were attracted to each other. For a moment I had thought that she and…but that doesn't matter now. Tony feels emotions very passionately, just like Nancy, and leaps before he looks. It's incredible, really, that he and Joe have such a strong friendship despite both of their tempers. I've always liked Tony."

"I'll pass on your good opinion of Tony to Carson, although he would still be upset even if Nancy waited until age 35 to begin dating," Griselda said with an eye roll.

Laura laughed. "And Michael is very good with Tony, instinctively understanding when to let him express himself, when to channel his energy, when to give consequences. Ironic, how important it is to the Pritos to avoid teen pregnancies, which reminds Michael of the inconvenience of his birth every time they bring it up," Laura said, surprised at the trace of anger in her own voice, "yet they seemed not to notice how Michael was slowly becoming a father figure even before he was a teenager, filling a role that Tony needed. Vinnie and Carmella love their boys, but they're a bit aloof, borderline workaholics. Hard work is one value in life, but shouldn't be the only value. Michael has always been a good son to them and a good worker, but he's rebelling in his own way."

"I appreciate the insight. The Pritos are endearing; sometimes I choose to get my takeout from there just so I can hear them laughing and bantering in the kitchen. And so Carson and I need to channel Nancy's energy away from a potential mystery," Griselda said with a sigh, getting them back on topic. "I can see her getting involved with negative activities. Considering that she tends not to believe in moderation."

"So I have a few ideas." Laura's eyes twinkled. "This is the fun part of our meeting. First of all, I'm glad that Nancy signed up for the beginning karate class, and I'd like her to follow through with that, as a special favor to me. Joe dropped out years ago out of embarrassment when Frank and Tony learned the moves much more quickly than he did, although he'd never admit that was the reason. I was able to convince Joe to attend the recruitment class yesterday because this is an activity that he, Nancy, and Tony can all participate in with no one left out."

"She can't wait for that class to start," Griselda agreed. "And she will _bask_ in the opportunity to do you a favor."

Laura smiled. "I'm going to pull a few strings and make sure that she can help me with at least a couple of signing events when my book is released in another month." She waved away Griselda's offer of payment. "And I've submitted the final script to a local bed and breakfast for an event called 'Sherlock Saturday.' They want to test how well the event might be received among their clientele, so they've agreed to do a practice run with the kids. I'm going to call a meeting among the parents soon to assign character roles."

"Ooooh! My husband will love it, he's such a ham when it comes to acting. Sorry, my reaction was a little too excited," Griselda said sheepishly, and Laura quickly took another sip of wine to try to hide how pleased she was by Griselda's reaction.

"I'll leave you in suspense on the details of Sherlock Saturday for now," Laura added. "And your comment about Nancy's excitement spending time with Polly Morton today gave me another idea. Last spring, I wrote a very nice letter of college recommendation for Polly, who's living with Iola's family while she commutes to UConn. If Nancy's bored with her current classes and eager to be an adult, maybe I can ask Polly to return the favor by asking one of her professors if Nancy can audit a college class with her."

Griselda's eyes lit up. "That would be fantastic."

"And I think that Nancy is ready for this book, if you would be so kind as to give her this from me. I've written a note in it for her, along with instructions on her first writing assignment. This is her copy to keep." Laura took a paperback out of her purse and passed it to Griselda, who promised that she would pass it on.

The women brainstormed additional strategies to channel Nancy's energy, and soon agreed not to overwhelm her for now. Griselda thanked Laura profusely and they promised to keep in touch.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Much appreciation and gratitude for the reads and reviews!_

**Dear Nancy,**

**I believe that you are now ready for this next Jane Austen novel, ****Sense and Sensibility****. In the context of this book, "sense" is defined as good judgment, wisdom, and prudence; "sensibility" means sensitivity, sympathy, and emotionality. In its most basic terms, this is a book about when a young woman should follow her head and when she should follow her heart. The novel never gives a clear answer because each person must make that decision for herself. **

**I know that this transition to Bayport hasn't been easy for you. I also know that you are a highly resilient young woman who has a deep love for life and a good head on her shoulders. I believe that you will come through this experience a much stronger person, never allowing your emotions to control you, yet also understanding that no one is fully human without feeling powerful emotions and honoring them.**

**Your first writing assignment will be an essay. After reading this book, I'd like you to answer the following questions in two to three pages: Under what circumstances should a young woman follow her heart, and under what circumstances should she follow her head? When should a young woman attempt to solve her problems independently, and when should she ask for help from an adult? In ****Persuasion****, Anne relies heavily on Lady Russell as a wise mentor who cares about her. Describe an adult in your life that you would feel confident to confide in.**

**With fondest regards,**

**Mrs. Hardy**

Hbnd

Nancy finally saw Tony again at school on Monday, but she only had time to receive updates from him in snatches of conversation between classes. Michael had driven Tony to school that morning, handing Tony's phone back and giving a final lecture on "alternate ways to manage anger." Tony said he was now "off Michael's observation," but Nancy noticed that he'd seemed a bit wistful as he'd said it; she detected that Tony had enjoyed his time with Michael that weekend, taking a couple of brother outings together and spending yesterday at one of the Prito family picnics that happened most Sundays before the weather got too cold.

Nancy sat in third period and glared across the room with her arms crossed. She had been in a very good mood all weekend because of Mrs. Hardy's note, making several copies of it because the original was already deteriorating from too much love, yet the past twenty minutes had taken away all of those good feelings. Perhaps this was the "sensibility" that Jane Austen had been writing about? The teacher had randomly broken them up into pairs and Tony was deeply focused on his project with his female partner, laughing at a joke she must have just made.

"This school system sucks," she said to Iola, who by luck had been chosen as her partner. "Where are we, in Sweden? What other high schoolers in _America_ have Geography as a regular full time course? No other students in this country would be able to even point to where the hell they're at on a map. And now we have to color in boundary lines with a partner like we're in kindergarten?"

"Yeah, and if you could please help me with this sucky project?" Iola said. "Quit looking at them. Maybe Tony is just trying to be polite because she forgot to put deodorant on or something. Look at Joe and Belinda instead."

At that moment Joe and Belinda's colored pencils went rolling off Belinda's desk all at the same time. Belinda crouched to retrieve them. Joe remained seated and threw each one back on the floor as soon as Belinda returned it to the desk. She protested, giggling, and smacked Joe's leg lightly from her position on the floor.

"Mr. Hardy," the teacher sighed.

"The two of them have some chemistry," Iola said, her voice sounding strange. "Seriously, it's like we're all pairing up. You've seen what's going on with Frank and Callie, right? Somehow I never imagined Joe having a girlfriend."

The teacher announced that whatever they didn't finish in class would be tonight's homework; Iola and Nancy hurriedly focused on their project and completed it just before the bell rang.

Tony approached Nancy at her locker at lunchtime. She turned her face away when he leaned in for a kiss. So he stood in front of her locker, blocking access.

"My monkey is mad at me?" he asked.

Nancy stomped her foot. "I am not your monkey! My new stepmother calls me 'sweetie' yet my boyfriend calls me 'monkey?'"

"Look deeply into my eyes and tell me that you don't like it at all, not even a little bit, and I give you my word that I'll never say it again." Tony looked at her and waited.

Nancy found that she couldn't do it. "Just once in a while," she muttered.

"Only when you deserve it," Tony promised. "Like now, for not telling me what you're mad at me about."

"Go finish coloring in your maps with Jackie, and then I'll tell you where to put them," Nancy snapped.

Tony's eyes lit up. "You're jealous!" he said happily.

"No, I'm not," Nancy said. "It's just that when I was looking at the two of you, I realized that I have no control over what you're thinking, and I would never really know if you liked her a little bit."

"Jealous," Tony confirmed. "It's quite sexy how Jackie colors within the lines, but we finished our project in class, so she and I have no reason to spend any more time together. I'm happy right where I am." He leaned in for a kiss and this time Nancy complied until a teacher icily told them to stop.

"I don't ever want to feel like that again, and I don't ever want you to, either. I never did want you to feel jealous, and especially not now that I know how terrible it feels." Nancy transferred her books and closed her locker. They headed to lunch and Nancy remembered the mystery. "So," she said, "did Michael ever come back into your room on Friday night?"

"For a short time," Tony said. "I was still in bed. He reached under my dresser and said he had to get a piece of paper that he'd dropped there earlier, but I think he'd put it there on purpose just to have an excuse to come back and see me. He sat on my bed and gave me a hug and a speech that he'd always be there for me, whether I wanted him to be or not."

Nancy mentally filed this information: Tony hadn't seen the note with the doctor's name and number. "And then you felt better," she said, giving him a knowing smile.

"Well…maybe a little." Tony put a hand on Nancy's elbow, gently guiding her to a stop at the side of the hallway. "Nancy," he said, "Michael's going to go easy on me for a while, but I have to meet him halfway. If I go looking into Sophie Conners' death after he told me not to, or start spying on Coach, I feel like…um, it might be important to me that Michael doesn't start to think of me as an annoying little brother who never listens. So, just like you're not going to be building bridges with me when I'm a civil engineer, is it okay if I'm not completely involved in just this one mystery with you?"

Nancy looked at his earnest, worried face and liked him even more. Joe approached them then.

"You gave her the talk?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, and you came just at the wrong time, idiot," Tony said with an eye roll. "She was about to give me her answer. But Michael doesn't know that Miss Swain is involved, so I might still be able to investigate her, maybe figure out some questions to ask her if she comes into the pizzeria again. And of course you guys will keep me up to date on what's going on with the case. Really, Nance, is it okay?"

Nancy felt terrible.

"We're all in this mystery together, Tony," Joe said. "And Nancy and I are going to get to the bottom of what happened to Sophie Conners. Frank and Phil know all about computers and microhacking and cybereverything, but I'm the expert in old-school investigating. Nancy and I are going to go to the library today—the library that's a half hour walk away, not the one in town, just to be sure the adults don't get suspicious—and I'll show her how to do research with microfilm and microfiche."

Nancy felt excited. "An excellent skill that I'll need to know! It'll be fun, Joe. And, Tony"—she kissed him on the nose—"it's fine that you're going to help in different ways than investigating."

"Thanks, Nancy. And I'm going to check her tomorrow for fingerprints, asshole," Tony said, narrowing his eyes at Joe in pretend suspicion. He told Nancy later that he would be very happy if Joe and Nancy became friends.

After school Joe and Nancy began their long walk to the library. She felt short next to Joe. She began by thanking him again for getting her the interview with his mom last month. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Nancy remembered something. "Did Frank ever kick Tony in the nuts on Saturday?"

Joe looked at her with a bemused expression. "No."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed," Joe commented.

"Just interested in all these boy rules. Guy rules," Nancy corrected.

"I'll tell you about it, since Tony obviously told you he was going to make the offer," Joe said. "Frank turned it down, but I volunteered to give Tony the kick for him, if that was the part that was making him uncomfortable. Frank said, no, the kick would be for me and Tony going through his room, which means that I deserve to get a kick too, so I said never mind. And then Frank made us sign a contract that we will never go through his room again or Tony and I will have to go to gym class every day for a week with no underwear on."

Nancy frowned.

"It's like a girl going to gym class without a bra on," Joe explained. "So then Frank and Tony sat me down and told me all about this mystery you guys have been keeping from me for weeks. And I guess I should thank you for voting in favor of letting me know about it? I would expect this from you, Nancy, but not from them."

"Thank you," Nancy said dryly.

"Just because I grew up with them. I reamed them a new one and made them sign a contract that if they ever keep a mystery from me again, they must decorate their lockers with Justin Bieber pictures. And then Tony wanted to think up a contract for me and Frank to sign but eventually we all agreed that he lost that privilege for hitting Frank."

"That sounds fair," Nancy said, and she heard a rumble behind her that she'd learned to fear.

Michael's truck stopped next to them and the passenger side window rolled down. Iola's cousin Polly leaned out and took a picture of them with her phone. "Five bucks from each of you and I'll delete this proof of your date," she said, laughing.

"Yeah, Tony's gonna be pissed," Michael called from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, he knows all about this, ass—" Joe abruptly stopped speaking.

"Were you about to call me an asshole, son?" Michael asked in a neutral tone.

"No, sir," Joe said.

"Remember what I told you on the phone yesterday about auditing a class with me, Nancy?" Polly asked. "Well, I heard back from my Business Law professor today, and he's going to let you come to class for free, no registering or anything!"

Nancy squealed in bliss, then covered her mouth with her hands, embarrassed. Squealing might have been an appropriate middle school response, but she was in high school now.

"Three days from now, Thursday night, the two of us will pick you up at 6:00 for class. Michael's taking us because I'm, um, having car trouble?" Polly giggled, obviously in a fun-loving mood.

"I'll be ready. Thanks so much," Nancy said enthusiastically, very excited to be attending a college class with a college student.

Michael draped his arm across the backrest, gesturing for Polly to come closer, and the passenger side window rolled up as the truck pulled away.

"He tends to be everywhere, doesn't he?" Nancy commented. She glanced at Joe.

"Uh-huh." Joe looked conflicted as they began to walk again. "And then after Tony left on Saturday, Frank told me the part about Michael meeting Coach. I mean, it could be anything, Nancy. Giving a doctor's name and number and some small thing doesn't mean Michael's involved in anything. The only witness is Biff Hooper. I understand why you had to get him involved, because of that day in detention, but that guy's dumber than a bag of rocks, Nancy."

"He's actually not," Nancy said, surprised that she felt defensive. "He gets straight As and he talks normally when we're alone with him. I think he only does those pranks and jokes when he's in a group of people. Have you noticed that he has a million people that he says hi to but not a group of friends? And don't people say things that aren't true about you, just because Frank is a genius, when obviously you're smarter than you…well, then sometimes when you're fooling around…"

"All right, let's get back to what we were talking about, since we're trying to be friends, remember," Joe said with a trace of irritation. "I feel bad about not telling Tony about the meeting between Michael and Coach Hafetz, but I also feel like not telling him is the right thing to do."

"Sorry, Joe. That's one of the reasons I voted to tell you about the mystery, and it was selfish of me," Nancy said, feeling a little bit guilty. "If Tony finds out that we kept this from him, then at least you and I are in equal trouble together. Miss Swain only teaches 11th and 12th grade English so we don't really have an opportunity to watch her, and we don't even know if she's still involved. I don't know what questions Tony could possibly ask her at the pizzeria without sounding suspicious. Obviously Frank and Biff have the most opportunity to keep an eye on Coach, since they're on the football team, so I think they're assuming that you and I have the most opportunity to keep an eye on…"

"Michael?" Joe turned quickly to look at her, eyes wide. "You saw what just happened! I don't think he'd hit me, but I don't want to find out what he'd do if he caught me. You're a girl, Nancy. He couldn't do anything to you."

"But, weirdly enough, you have more of an opportunity to be in Tony's house and upstairs on the bedroom hallway than I do, and the family would pay less attention to you than to me. Didn't you learn spying techniques at your Scouts retreat?" Nancy countered. Then she felt guilty again. "But I can't blame you for not wanting to investigate Michael. And you don't have to. I had an opportunity to search Michael's room on Friday night, and I couldn't do it. At first, I thought it was because I wanted to be respectful, plus I'd just seen the disaster that came out of you and Tony searching Frank's room…but, later on that night, I had to admit to myself that part of me was simply scared of what I might find in there. I get the feeling that, even with how terrifying Michael can be, Tony adores him and would spaz if he was involved in something bad."

"'Spaz?' How old are these books that you read, Nancy? But, yes, he does and he would," Joe said. "If that's how you feel, we can drop this mystery while we still can. We have no reason to think anything illegal is going on. If somebody's sick and only wants a few people to know about it, then that's their choice. I know that Frank would be willing to drop it, we could keep telling Tony that there are no more updates, and I don't know Biff very well but he'd have to let it go, right, because who would want to solve a mystery all by themselves? Take a minute and think about it."

So Nancy did, and they walked a few minutes in silence. Then, sighing gloomily, Nancy re-committed to solving the mystery; if they stopped investigating, it still wouldn't stop something shady from currently happening, and maybe they could at least prevent a bad situation from getting any worse. They discussed their options and agreed that Nancy would try to search Michael's truck while she was at class with him and Polly on Thursday night, and Joe would try to search as much of Michael's bedroom as he was comfortable with searching.

They arrived at the library and Joe asked the librarian for microfilm of all of the local newspapers' obituaries for the month of June, 1992. It was a significant request, but they eventually gathered a good amount of material and headed to a machine that looked similar to an old computer.

"I have to be home for dinner by six or my parents will ask questions," Joe said, placing the film on a spindle on the left. He put the end of the film under the rollers and into the take-up reel on the other side. Then he used the fast forward button to get to the first image and pushed the tray under the microscope. The image appeared on the screen in front of them. "We're going to have to skim and prioritize."

Joe set up a different roll of microfilm on another machine for Nancy. It was tedious work, and both of them agreed that this was not exactly the most appealing part of a detective career but that they would have to get used to the boring parts too. It was over an hour before Joe finally found something.

"First of all, very weird that it took us this long to track down an obituary," Joe said. "This is from a very small newspaper. Coach obviously loved his sister. Did their family not love her? Why wouldn't they publish a nice memorial for her? There is just one ridiculously tiny paragraph that 'Sophie Conners, aged 22, of Bayport, Connecticut, passed away after battling an illness. She is survived by her husband of one year, Brian Conners.' That explains why she had a different last name than Coach."

"How do we print this?" Nancy asked.

Joe took a picture of it instead. "Small towns. Even though we're not in Bayport anymore, chances are that the librarians know one of my parents, and they might run into each other in the grocery store and innocently ask what school project I'm doing about June 14, 1992. I don't want there to be a record on this machine that we printed anything."

They soon agreed to be done for the day.

"So, what, we try to find her husband Brian 26 years later and ask him questions?" Nancy asked glumly as they began their long walk back. "That seems hard to do. And it doesn't seem very respectful."

"There's that word 'respect' again. You're thinking like an Italian now," Joe said, grinning at her. "Well, the obvious connection is that something medical is going on. Sophie died after battling an illness, then Coach says 'never again' in front of her grave, and then Michael gets a doctor's name and phone number."

Nancy repeated the concerns she'd mentioned to Frank and Biff on Saturday, about why Michael would want to keep it quiet, and see a primary care doctor instead of a specialist, and why he would go to a primary care doctor an hour and a half away and use a private phone number.

Joe was quiet.

"What are you thinking?" Nancy asked.

"I was just wondering," Joe said, "why Miss Swain was meeting with Coach, and now Michael is. It's like Michael swapped out with her. Same day of the week, same time, same place. Or maybe she and Michael have been alternating who goes to which meetings? Remember, on Friday the 14th, you guys didn't know that the meetings were ongoing, so no one was keeping an eye on the gym that day. I just wonder if the key to this whole thing is how Michael is connected to Miss Swain, not how he's connected to Coach."

Nancy remembered the day when she and Tony had made out by the Tower Mansion. She briefly smiled to herself, and then said, "Tony and I saw Michael's truck on a back road near the Tower Mansion the weekend before last. Michael saw us coming and he got of the truck before we got there, putting his belt back on. We assumed it was Polly in there with him…"

"Hmmm," Joe said. They bounced a couple more ideas off each other and agreed that Joe would talk to Frank, who would talk to Biff, and see if those two had any more brainstorms. The sun was starting to go down and Nancy pulled her coat closer to herself, shivering. It was the first day of October.

"Are Frank and Tony completely friends again, do you think?" she asked Joe.

"Yeah, they're fine. Frank is a much more forgiving and understanding person than I'll ever be, and he actually doesn't have much of an ego, either. The problem is what Frank might think of _himself_ as a result," Joe said with a slow exhale. "That fight reminded Frank that there is one activity in the world that someone is better at than him, a _younger_ person even, so now Frank might go to the extremes to get better at karate. I worry about his type-A OCD personality sometimes. He hasn't pushed himself to burnout yet, but he never lets himself be average at anything, either."

Nancy let a moment of silence pass as she considered that. "Let me know if there's any way I can help him be a normal person once in a while, okay?"

"About the ways you can help," Joe said as they entered their familiar neighborhood, "I know we're finally getting over all the drama between you and Frank, so I hate to bring this up, but I'm only going to say this once."

Nancy looked at him, on alert.

"I think you should be careful around Frank," Joe said. "I think that when you two first met, he thought of you as an adorable kid sister, and now he thinks of you more like a detective partner…but, however he thinks of you, we've seen how much he enjoys your hero worship of him. He thinks there's such a big difference between ninth and tenth graders—except for Callie—and I think, as we get older, the way he thinks of you could change if you two don't watch yourselves."

"Wow," Nancy said slowly. "You know, that is such a relief, actually, finally understanding how Frank thinks of me. You know Frank the best out of anybody. Thanks for letting me know."

"It's still only my opinion. Frank and I sure don't tell each other everything that we think about girls. But I do think that you and he should be careful, maybe have a rule that you'll never be alone together or something," Joe stressed. "If your detective agency is going to team up with mine and Frank's for some cases, we're going to be doing all kinds of things to catch the bad guys. Diving in caves, investigating haunted museums and secret passageways, going undercover in foreign countries. You and Frank can't have a fling under pressure. Then everything would be all messed up with Callie and Tony."

"I don't think that will happen," Nancy reassured him. "But thanks for the warning."

"And, now that I've given you information about Frank." Joe stopped and looked at her. They were halfway between their houses, so this was where they would split up. "Between us. Can you just…let me know if Iola ever says anything about me, okay?"

Nancy felt that she had no choice but to nod.

Her mood was off as she went to bed that night. These secrets were getting more and more complex; if she told a secret, it could hurt someone, and if she didn't tell the secret, it could hurt them too. And this first mystery was starting not to be fun anymore. She'd always assumed that this would be the most thrilling part of a mystery: zeroing in on the culprit after clues were gathered and research was done. But things got thorny when the culprits were not perfect strangers and when they might not even be doing anything illegal. Nancy remembered how excited she'd been to write a novel, and then everything had become messy and complicated after only a few people had gotten involved and read it. She hoped that the mystery wouldn't turn out the same way.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: All of my barstool "regulars" (you know who you are…my hat is off to you as always) reviewed the last chapter immediately…so I'm going to experiment with posting this next chapter early. Enjoy whatever is left of your weekend! JB_

Nancy frowned in confusion at the front door late Thursday afternoon.

"You're home early," she commented to her father.

"I've been at this job for six weeks now. I've got to start scaling my hours back or they'll assume that this is how much I'll always work," Carson grumbled, dumping his belongings by the front door and the mail on the kitchen table. Nancy smiled to herself, remembering how Joe would have gotten in trouble from his mom if he had done the same thing. Carson walked to Nancy and gave her a hug and a kiss.

"Plus you wouldn't believe what's going on with the Patriots, Nancy. I swear less cheating goes on between kindergarteners playing Candyland. I was watching the replays again and the refs call 'roughing the passer' if the defense doesn't lay a blanket on the field to cushion Tom Brady's fall." Carson sat at the table and began sorting through the mail. "Oh…there's something here in my name, but it's really about you."

Nancy ran over eagerly and sat next to him in a kitchen chair. Except for Hannah's letters, she never got any snail mail, the special kind that went through the postal service.

"Nothing good," her father warned her, opening a business envelope. They read it together.

"I'm assigned to community service the week after next for breaking curfew," Nancy said, her heart sinking. Even less time with Tony. "Gardening?"

"Griselda explained to me when you first got in trouble that, in Bayport, there is a rotating project of the week or month," Carson said. "Every minor who gets sentenced to community service is on the same work crew. It looks like you'll be helping to put the flower beds around town to bed for the winter, but at least Frank and Callie should be right there with you."

"Oh, great. So I'll be the third wheel," Nancy said.

"The community service leader will pick up everyone in the parking lot right after school. Good, so you won't be coming home to an empty house every day," Carson said, brightening. "And after that week, wouldn't it be fun for you to make some new friends, maybe do some fun activities at school instead of sitting in this house bored and lonely?"

Nancy realized what he was insinuating and bristled. "I'm not going to one of those after-school gatherings, Dad. I mean it."

"You shouldn't be sitting here by yourself. What if something happened to you and we didn't find out for hours?"

"Fine. I'll go immediately to Mr. Pizza every day after school and learn the value of hard work. Too bad my grades will suffer, since I get my homework done in the afternoon quiet."

"Twelve-hour days with your male companion?" Carson said in distaste. "That's too much time together for a ninth-grade relationship. And, honey, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed if he's only spending time with you because he wants to hook up with me."

Nancy stared at her father in horror. "I don't think you know what 'hook up' means these days, Dad. I will never be able to un-hear that, no matter how many times I wash my ears out with soap."

"His criminal record could be several pages long so far. If he thinks he's buttering me up for free legal representation, the answer is an emphatic no." Carson sighed and held up his hand before Nancy could respond. "All right, no after-school club and no twelve-hour days with boys, but you and I need to work out a compromise soon."

"Thanks, Dad," Nancy said in gratitude and relief. The doorbell rang.

"Yes!" Nancy squealed, throwing her jacket on and grabbing her notebook and pen as her father answered the door. She turned around and saw Carson staring at Michael and Polly, his face tight.

Nancy knew to be afraid of that look. "Dad, this is my night to go to a college class with Polly," she said, walking to the door. "Michael is driving us."

"Polly is teaching me that it's impolite to honk in someone's driveway. We should get out of the truck and ring the doorbell instead." Michael winked at Nancy and she felt a kaleidoscope of butterflies awaken in her stomach and flutter all the way down to her toes.

Carson was now glaring at Michael. Nancy suddenly understood what the problem was. Michael was a little under six feet tall and always wore jeans and a tight fitting white T-Shirt. He was not buff, but he was toned. Her father must be wondering how soon it would be before Tony looked like this.

"Well, I can't let you go only wearing short sleeves. I'll get you a sweatshirt. It's October now, after all, and you'll catch your death of cold," Carson said to Michael, a bit too pleasantly.

Polly put her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle.

"I have a jacket in the truck bed. I promise, I'll put it on right away," Michael told him.

"Oh, okay. I'll stand in the doorway and watch you put it on," Carson answered. "You're sure you have an _active_ driver's license? And you will never be alone with my daughter at any time throughout the evening, correct? Good. Home by 9:00 at the latest?"

"It's a forty-five minute drive, and sometimes the professor goes late," Polly said with a smile. "Nancy will call you if she's going to get home past 9:30."

"Good," Carson said.

True to his word, Michael put his jacket on before they left. Nancy thought of offering to sit in the squished middle seat, as she was shorter than Polly, but thought better of it when she saw her dad still watching them from the porch. As soon as the three had driven a block away, Polly howled with laughter.

"What a bright idea, ringing the doorbell," Michael grinned, tickling Polly with his non-driving hand. "I respect your dad, though, Nancy. My brother sure has his work cut out for him."

Nancy was pleased that so far her dad's behavior had not grossly offended anyone.

Nancy got more nervous the closer they got to UConn. She knew that her plan to search Michael's truck was nowhere near foolproof and was actually a bit ridiculous. They turned up the music a little too loudly and enjoyed themselves on the ride up with the windows down, despite it being a bit too chilly. Nancy impressed both Polly and Michael by knowing all the lyrics to the oldies station (the 80s and 90s), which was the music she knew from the roller skating club in River Heights.

They arrived on campus and Polly helped Michael navigate through the complicated parking lot system. They parked and Polly and Michael got out of the truck. At the last minute, Nancy put her notebook on the floor of the truck before exiting. Michael locked the truck remotely as the three began to walk. They were a few hundred yards away from the truck when Nancy made her move.

"Oh," Nancy said. "I forgot my notebook. Sorry. Can I have the keys to the truck to go back and get it?"

"We're fifteen minutes early," Michael said. "We'll all go back for it."

"But I feel bad," Nancy insisted, which was true. "Give me the keys to the truck and I'll catch up with you guys."

"How will you know how to catch up with us when you've never been here before?" Michael asked, and Nancy heard a strong edge of sarcasm in his voice. She couldn't tell if he thought it was just a stupid comment or if he was suspicious. She always had a hard time reading Michael. They all headed back to the truck together for the notebook while Nancy felt quite embarrassed.

Polly led them to the correct building and corridor and room number. "I'll be right out here in the hallway," Michael said.

"Um, there's not even a chair out here in this hallway for you?" Polly said. Nancy had come to the conclusion that Polly was not an airhead, just tended to become excited whenever she was around a Prito. Nancy could relate.

"I'll be fine," Michael said.

"Class is only fifty minutes," Polly said. "Come in with us."

Michael's expression darkened, just like how it had when he'd told Tony to stop looking into Sophie Connors' death. "I told you, Polly," he said, "I can't stand these classroom power games. Roll call, asking to go the bathroom, lectures about consequences."

"I told you, college isn't like that," Polly pressed. "None of that happens here."

"Hey, Polly," a good-looking fellow student said as he headed into the classroom. Another young man openly scanned Polly's figure as he walked by.

"I'll come into class with you girls after all," Michael said.

Five minutes into class, Nancy raised her hand and asked a question about Business Law that was so complicated that the professor promised to do some research into it and answer her next week.

"Give 'em hell, Nancy," Michael whispered to her, while Polly gave her a warning look.

Nancy was just starting to tune out when she was startled awake by Michael asking a question, making sure his family couldn't be sued for a policy that they had for the construction company. The professor responded that the policy was fair, standard practice, and within the boundaries of the law.

"Remind me never to turn my back on you two," Polly commented on their way back to the parking lot.

"It should be flattering to our professor that we assume that he's able to answer any question about Business Law," Nancy answered matter-of-factly, and she was very pleased when Michael gave her a high-five.

Despite her excitement at hanging out with an 18-year-old and a 20-year-old, Nancy found herself nodding off on the ride home. It had been a long day; Michael had his arm around Polly, and Polly had her arm around Nancy. Nancy felt soothed by the rumbling of Michael's truck.

"There's a public bathroom coming up on this road," Nancy vaguely heard Polly say. "Did the girls ever tell you a story about Tony and a public bathroom stall, Nancy?"

Nancy tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

Michael snorted. "Serves the little _goomba_ right."

Nancy sat up straight as she remembered: Tony had made up a story that there were flattering reports of his sexual prowess on a public bathroom stall, leading to the girls writing unflattering reports instead. "Please, can we stop there?" she asked eagerly.

"Um, let's not," Michael said uncertainly.

"I really, really have to pee," Nancy lied. "I don't want to…._disrespect_ your truck."

"Let's stop," Polly said to Michael. Michael pulled into the next gas station while Nancy unobtrusively slipped her pen into her jeans pocket.

"I'll wait in the truck," Michael said. Nancy inwardly groaned at yet another lost opportunity to search his truck, but figured it would be suspicious if she begged Michael to get out and pee.

Polly immediately entered the handicapped stall. Nancy entered the other stalls and inspected them until she found what she was looking for: a sentence in Callie's handwriting, stating "For a bad time, see Tony Prito." Nancy took out her pen, crossed out "bad," wrote "good," and took a picture of it on her phone.

"I'm not hearing you pee, Nancy," Polly said, leaving the handicapped stall and joining her. Nancy pointed to her handiwork with a grin.

"Oooh, Tony," Polly sniggered. "But I have an even better idea."

Polly found a fresh area on the bathroom stall. She wrote the first four words herself, told Nancy what to write for the second half, and soon their statement to the world was complete:

**For a good time, call the Prito brothers**

Nancy and Polly giggled together, both taking pictures on their phones. They washed their hands and were about to exit the gas station bathroom when Polly took Nancy's elbow.

"I told Michael that I wanted him to come with us tonight because I thought it would be weird, just me and a fourteen-year-old kid," Polly said, meeting Nancy's gaze meaningfully. "We agreed to tell you that I was having car trouble. But I really wanted some excuse for him to come to class and see what college is really like. I think you speaking up in class tonight gave him the courage he needed to ask his own question, Nancy. Thank you."

Nancy smiled, happy that she might have helped. For one brief, risky moment, Nancy almost asked Polly if she was the person in Michael's truck on the day when Tony and Nancy had been returning from the Tower Mansion.

Then, in a moment of clarity, Nancy decided against it. If it hadn't been Polly in the truck, then Polly and Michael would have serious issues, and Nancy had learned not to meddle in other people's relationships.

"I hope you don't think Michael is as uptight as he always looks. He's wild about Tony—you should hear how he talks about his little brother. Maybe we can double date sometime," Polly continued. "You, me, Tony, and Michael. We could take my car. We did it a couple of times with Phil and Iola at the end of summer and it was fun. I won't have time until after midterms, though."

"We would love that," Nancy said enthusiastically, feeling a rush of excitement.

Polly waited until Michael was buckled in and had taken a swig of water before showing him the picture of what she and Nancy had written on the bathroom stall. He spluttered, spitting up water on his jacket and coughing repeatedly.

Polly and Nancy, of course, laughed until tears formed in their eyes.

Michael finally recovered. "Still more of a compliment for Tony than for me," he grumbled good-naturedly, pulling back onto the county road. "I have to wait until I'm twenty for an endorsement like that, and my baby brother earns it in ninth grade?"

"You can always ask him for lessons," Nancy said innocently, and Polly collapsed with mirth. Nancy found that Michael was a lot less scary when Polly was around.

Bayport was only fifteen minutes away, and Nancy began to feel disappointed that the night was ending.

"Look at the clock. 8:45," Michael commented to Nancy. "And your father is expecting you home at 9:30. How about I drop you off at my house for a quick visit? Then I'll take Polly home and we need to be back in the truck by 9:20."

Nancy clapped her hands eagerly, forgiving herself for her immature reaction.

After what felt like forever Michael entered his house with Nancy, Polly waiting in the truck. "Tony!" he called up the stairs. "You have a visitor."

The TV was on to a sports channel. A man leaned up in his recliner, blinking rapidly like he'd been woken up.

"Dad, this is Nancy. Tony's girl," Michael said.

It took Mr. Prito another moment to wake up and focus. "Hello," he said simply, and Nancy shyly returned his hello. Nancy was surprised to realize that she'd been dating Tony for weeks and had only now met his dad.

Tony appeared at the bottom of the stairs in his pajama pants and a T-shirt. He stared at Nancy disbelievingly, as if he couldn't believe she were actually at his house at this time of night, and walked quickly toward her. Nancy met him halfway across the living room floor, but they stopped suddenly in front of each other. Neither one quite wanted to embrace in front of Michael and Mr. Prito. They didn't want to stay in the living room, yet knew better than to head up to Tony's bedroom.

"Go in the basement," Mr. Prito said to his younger son. "And be a gentleman, Antonio."

"You have twenty minutes, Tony," Michael said warningly. "Nancy's dad will kick my ass if we're late."

"Yes, he will. Thanks, Michael," Tony said, and then his focus returned to Nancy alone. He headed to the kitchen, Nancy following him, and he opened a door on the left hand side. The two managed to put on a show of walking normally until they shut the door to the basement behind them, after which they ran to the bottom of the stairs.

Nancy understood why Tony's dad had sent them to the basement for their privacy: it was ugly, cold, smelled musty, and had no furniture that they could collapse upon. Nevertheless they made do with what they had. Tony gently pressed her hips against a wall and the next few minutes were lost to them.

Finally they came up for air. Nancy pulled out her phone. "Now everyone knows what a gentleman you are," Nancy commented, showing him the picture of the revised writings on the bathroom stall. Tony was quite pleased and they somehow ended up on the carpeted floor for another several minutes.

Nancy rolled off him eventually and Tony lay on the floor next to her. "I'm crazy for you," he said.

"Me for you, too," Nancy said, and crossed her eyes like she was already nuts.

"You know," Tony said, his arm tucked around her, "Michael gave me a birth control talk on the way to school this morning. He asked our parents and found out that neither of them had gotten around to it yet."

Nancy laughed. "So now you know more than I do."

"I didn't make it easy for him. I was telling jokes the whole time." Tony propped himself up on an elbow and looked into Nancy's eyes. "Finally he gave me a couple of condoms but said that he really, really thinks we should wait. He said that you're the kind of girl who might want to wait for marriage, and you would be worth it."

"Michael said that about me?" Nancy's eyebrows shot up. She felt very happy that Michael had that opinion, while simultaneously feeling guilty that she had been trying to search Michael's truck that evening, while simultaneously feeling terrible for keeping parts of the mystery secret from Tony.

"He did. And he wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it."

Nancy thought about the implications of what Tony had said. "It's…it is okay if we wait for a while, isn't it?" she said uneasily.

"Of course," Tony said, and Nancy was surprised to hear an edge of anger in his voice. "You really think of me as the kind of person who would put pressure on you? This is all just side benefits. Say the word and we'll stop doing any of this. You kissed me first, remember."

"I don't want to stop doing any of this," Nancy reassured him.

"Good. And—please don't tell the guys I'm saying this, because I know that they think of me as an expert on sex, and I want them to feel confident to come to me with their questions—but maybe I'm not ready, either. It really feels like we're already grown, but I guess we're not." Tony got a distracted look on his face.

"What is it?" Nancy asked.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. We're going to have even less time to spend together," Tony said. "Remember those two days of school that I missed? The school figured out that I was playing hooky, and now I have to serve every afternoon on the week of October 15th in community service."

Nancy smiled.

They had just started to celebrate that they would be serving community service together when Michael knocked on the basement door. He took one look at them and sternly told them to fix their hair and clothes.

Michael and Tony stopped the truck a short distance down the street from Nancy's house in case her father might be upset that Polly wasn't with them anymore. Nancy ran to her house and let herself in with her house key and her father never knew the difference.

Nancy showered just to cool down and checked her email. There was a message from Joe. He had been at Tony's house that afternoon and had quickly searched Michael's room while Tony was in the bathroom; he hadn't seen anything noteworthy, although he hadn't opened all of Michael's drawers, either. Nancy had to respond that she had been unable to search Michael's truck that evening. It had been a dud night for the case, and Nancy was annoyed with herself for being partially glad about it. It meant that they hadn't found anything incriminating, either.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Muchas Gracias to those who reviewed the last chapter: thenostalgicdreamer, Cherylann Rivers, Evergreen Dreamweaver, t4swp, max2013, sm2003495, Guest, ErinJordan, angelicalkiss, katnissta, and Child of Dreams. I believe this is the most reviews I've ever received for one chapter….you guys make me smile perpetually!_

**To: [Nancy Drew][Joe Hardy][Alan Hooper]**

**From: [Frank Hardy]**

**10/7/18 7:42 a.m.**

**Re: Weekly Case Summarization**

**Team:**

**Please disregard the previous group email that I just sent; I omitted the parts about Michael to keep Tony in the dark. This is the complete case summarization.**

**9/3 Nancy intercepts a note from Coach Hafetz to Miss Swain stating MEET ME IN THE GYM FRIDAY THE 7****TH**** AT 4:00 IF YOU WANT ME TO SLIP YOU THE PACKAGE**

**9/7 My mom goes to the school gym to intercept the meeting. She never told us what happened and, if we ask her about it now, she'll get suspicious.**

**9/21 Miss Swain leaves the detention room shortly before 4:00 with her purse. Biff and Nancy find a note in her desk from Coach Hafetz stating THIS HAS GOT TO END. LET'S MOVE ON TO PLAN B: THE PERMANENT SOLUTION. Later that night, Nancy, Callie, and I observe Coach Hafetz in Bayport Cemetery muttering "Not again. I promise. I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again." at the gravesite of Sophie Connors, Coach's older sister, who died in 1992 when she was 22 after "battling an illness." Around this time, rumors begin circulating around school that Miss Swain has a new boyfriend; Tony reports that she hasn't been to Mr. Pizza in weeks, when she used to come in regularly and flirt with Michael during the summer.**

**[The following details Tony doesn't know.]**

**9/28 Biff sees Michael meet Coach Hafetz in the gym at 4:00 and is too far away to overhear anything; Coach Hafetz gives Michael a paper with "Dr. Jansen Young's" name and private number on it, a primary doctor whose office is an hour and a half away; also hands Michael something else very small, so small that Biff can't see any of it.**

**Efforts to search Michael's bedroom and truck have not revealed anything noteworthy to date.**

**10/5 I kept watch in the gym this past Friday at 4:00 and there was not a meeting. So I waited until Coach headed out to practice and searched his desk. He is not very organized and nothing looked relevant to our case. However, the diplomas hanging on the wall jogged my memory, and when I got home I compared them to the biography on Dr. Young's website. Sure enough, they both graduated from UConn in 1996. Perhaps Coach Hafetz and Dr. Young were college roommates? Or met in a student club? Or a class?**

**Your colleague, **

**Frank**

**To: [Frank Hardy][Nancy Drew][Alan Hooper]**

**From: [Joe Hardy]**

**10/7/18 10:33 a.m.**

**Reply All: Weekly Case Summarization**

**Amateurs:**

**Can you believe what a pair of balls my big brother has, to search Coach Hafetz's desk when anybody could have walked in? Looks like he's actually learned something from all those detective lessons I gave him, right? Nice job, Frank!**

**Your Proud Sensei,**

**Joe **

Ndhb

Nancy and Griselda went to the late church service at 11:30 Sunday morning. They stopped for Chinese takeout on the way home so Carson could eat with them.

"You're a better teenager than I was," Griselda commented as they drove the final few miles home. "I never would have gone to church while my father slept in."

"I should bring that up sometime when I'm mad at him, shouldn't I?" Nancy said thoughtfully.

"Whoops. I just threw him under the bus, didn't I?"

"I won't say anything for now because I'm not upset. I've always liked church." Nancy looked at her stepmother and wrinkled her nose. "But I'm glad that we missed Sunday School. I don't like the teacher here. She's so much different from the ladies I had in River Heights."

Griselda looked at her in surprise. "Mrs. Hough? But all the other ki—_young people_ enjoy her class! She's so kind and progressive. Her only goal is to teach that God loves everyone."

"Isn't it awful," Nancy said, nodding her head.

Griselda appeared genuinely confused. "Your father took you to some fire and brimstone place in River Heights, and you liked that _better_?"

"Well, of course I believe that God loves everyone, but my old Sunday School teachers taught us about how evil people can be," Nancy said with a smile. "And I just couldn't help but think, yes, and I will fight all that crime and put all those low-lifes in jail someday!"

"Oh, Nancy," Griselda said, laughing and briefly rubbing Nancy's knee (which Nancy chose to tolerate), "as you get older, you'll see that human behavior is a lot more complicated than that. Everyone has some good and some bad in them. Not every illegal activity is purely evil, some people do bad things for the right reasons and vice versa, and sometimes it's hard to tell who are the good guys and who are the bad guys."

Nancy thought of her current mystery and considered Griselda's words soberly. She and her friends were investigating the football coach, the English teacher, and her boyfriend's brother. The odds of all three of them being purely wicked were small.

They arrived home and Griselda and Nancy each took a bag of takeout from the car. Griselda opened the front door and Nancy heard her father scream "nice call, Stevie Wonder!" as another familiar voice yelled _"puttano!"_

Nancy walked into her house and, if Griselda had not grabbed the bag, Nancy would have dropped Chinese food all over the floor. Carson and Tony were sitting side by side on the living room couch, leaning forward and focusing on the TV like they were watching a public execution. Tony was dressed up from morning Mass—dark pants and a grey dress shirt—and Nancy thought she had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"One second, ladies," Carson said, holding a finger up, "the other team just challenged the call. The refs are about to feed us a bunch of bull."

"The refs are checking their bank accounts to see if their bribe from Bill Bellichik went through," Tony added, and Carson fell over laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"We'll make a plate for everyone," Griselda announced, waving Nancy into the kitchen. "Nancy," she said in a low voice when they got in there, "did you tell Tony how much your father hates the New England Patriots?"

"No, actually. I can't believe I never thought of it," Nancy whispered back, grinning.

Griselda dished two plates and put them into Nancy's hands. "Be supportive, but don't call too much attention to this unless he sends you clear signals that he wants you to," Griselda advised. "If we're lucky, the afternoon will progress naturally."

The referees were speaking as Nancy entered the living room. Tony flicked his hand off his chin at the TV in a gesture of disgust, and Carson shouted, "I hope your seeing eye dog bites you in the ass!" Nancy put their plates in front of them on the coffee table.

Soon there was a commercial. "I can't stand those pricks," Carson said, standing up to give Nancy a hug. He was still in his pajamas, hair mussed. "How was the service, honey?"

Nancy was wearing a dress for church. Carson's back was to Tony for the hug. Tony's eyes dragged down Nancy's body and then back up, eyes wide. Nancy gave him a firm look to knock it off before releasing her father.

"Church was very enlightening," Nancy said simply.

"Oh—" Carson looked behind him to Tony, then back to Nancy, as if realizing that something was out of the ordinary.

Nancy waited anxiously to hear what he would say next. Maybe their common hatred of a football team would not be enough to sustain a nice Sunday afternoon.

"Tony asked his parents to drop him off here after Mass," Carson explained. "You weren't back yet, of course, so I _invited him in_…" Carson paused and looked at Nancy expectedly.

Nancy knew that this was her cue to lavish praise for efforts made. "Daddy, what a wonderful thing to do!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, giving him an extra hug and kiss. She made a mental note to find subtle ways to give ongoing positive reinforcement if her father continued to practice appropriate social pleasantries.

Carson nodded, evidently satisfied with her reaction. "Tony saw the corrupt garbage that was on TV. He said that he'd rather wait for you outside if the Patriots were on. And so of course I insisted that he had to stay inside and suffer with me!"

"Very thoughtful of you, Dad," Nancy added, nodding in affirmation.

"If they cheat their way to the Superbowl just one more time, I'm never getting out of bed again," Tony announced. "Remember nine months ago, when they were crushed by a backup quarterback from the Philadelphia Eagles?"

Carson clapped Tony on the back in manly solidarity. "And Tom Brady wouldn't even shake Nick Foles's hand afterwards, just ran sulking off the field!"

Griselda came in and handed Nancy her plate of food. Nancy frowned and looked uncertainly at the furniture. Would it be too much for her father if she sat on the couch next to her boyfriend?

"Everyone needs to get a bit more comfortable," Griselda announced. She gathered all of the living room throw pillows and put some between Tony and Carson, the rest between Tony and Nancy. There was now a protective barrier so Carson might not be offended if Nancy was in close proximity to a boy.

"No blankets," Griselda whispered in Nancy's ear. Nancy gave her a grateful smile as the game came back on.

Nancy frowned at Tony. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at one of those Prito Sunday afternoon picnics?"

"It got cancelled. It's too cold out. Next week will be the last one of the year, if it's warmer." Tony and Nancy shared an affectionate look until Nancy realized that her father had made a joke that no one had responded to. Nancy silently looked at her dad, then back at Tony. Tony seemed to take her hint, returning his focus entirely to bantering with Carson. Nancy squeezed Tony's forearm and didn't touch him again.

Throughout the rest of that afternoon, Nancy wondered many times why anyone would watch a ball game because they _didn't_ like a team. She thought it would be a much more logical thing to do to check the score after the game was over, but she didn't want logic to ruin their nice time together. She desperately wanted to get changed, but didn't want Tony to feel out of place in his dress clothes. Eventually Griselda headed upstairs for some time to herself; Nancy interpreted it as Griselda's opinion that Carson would be continue to be well-behaved for the rest of the game. So Nancy got her laptop and tried to work on her essay for Mrs. Hardy.

Nancy was frustrated and embarrassed that Mrs. Hardy had assigned her essay over a week ago and she still couldn't think of what to write. She didn't know when a young woman should follow her head and when she should follow her heart, and she didn't know when to confide in adults and when to practice independence and solve her own problems (and mysteries). She did know, however, that she wanted Mrs. Hardy to be her mentor, but was too shy to ask; and, surprisingly, whenever she thought of people she would feel confident to confide in, she always ended up thinking of Griselda. Finally she sighed and emailed Frank to please tell his mom that she had finished reading Sense and Sensibility and hadn't forgotten about the writing assignment; Frank responded a short time later that his mom wanted Nancy to take her time with the essay, as they were difficult, lifelong questions, and perhaps Nancy needed to be "ready" to write the essay just like a young woman needed to be "ready" to receive the lessons of Jane Austen's novels.

The game ended at 4:30 with a Patriots win. Nancy also could never understand how the last fifteen minutes in football time always ended up as an hour in real time.

"Next time, next time," Carson muttered, turning off the TV. He looked up the stairs toward where Griselda had gone. "Why don't you walk Tony home while it's still light out?" he asked Nancy.

Nancy raised her eyebrows. Carson stood up from the couch and got Nancy her coat. Nancy went to the bathroom.

"No bedrooms," Carson said to Tony when Nancy returned. Her father's tone was stern, but not icy like it had been in previous weeks. "She will be back before it gets dark. Stick to the main roads, Nancy, and keep your hand on your cell phone."

"Okay, Dad," Nancy said, while Tony simultaneously said, "Yes, sir."

Tony's hands hung open at his sides. Carson headed up the stairs. If Tony had been hoping for a handshake, he hadn't gotten one; however, Nancy still thought the afternoon had gone perfectly.

Nancy and Tony headed outside into the nippy, cloudy late afternoon, walking down the sidewalk and around the corner. As soon as they couldn't be seen from the house, Nancy shrieked and put her hands on Tony's shoulders, jumping up and down.

"Thank you, thank you," Tony said, obviously pleased with himself.

"You did it! You just had 'bro' time with my dad! And you were so brave, ringing my doorbell without even knowing if I was home or not," Nancy gushed.

"Antonio Prito, the Warrior King," Tony confirmed, accepting Nancy's kisses all over his face.

He took her hand and they began to walk to his house. "That's a relief, to know that your dad's rules are just no bedrooms now," Tony said with an exhale. "I was feeling really bad, bringing you into my house when he told me not to that one day. Hey, if we hurry up, we'll have a few minutes in my nasty basement."

Nancy didn't want to hurry up and she certainly didn't want to go in his nasty basement today. She had heard rumors of people who were sometimes 'not in the mood,' but she had assumed that they were myths created by miserable people with health problems. She could never have imagined herself not in the mood with Tony until today. "Umm," she said hesitantly, "next time, okay?" She grimaced and held the back of her hand against her forehead, the gesture for "not tonight, baby" that Tony had taught her on their first date. But the humor didn't distract him.

"What?" Tony turned sharply toward her, a frown creasing his forehead. "Is it because you're wearing a dress? You look so pretty in it, Nancy. And I'm glad you don't put that crap on your face that other girls do. But I swear I wouldn't—"

"I know you wouldn't," Nancy said hurriedly.

"Well then…I want you to tell me if I'm doing something wrong. I want it to feel good for you." The hurt on Tony's face was what made Nancy decide to tell him.

"I got my period this morning," Nancy mumbled. "I only get cramps on my first day."

Tony looked at her as if she had said that she gutted monsters on the weekends, fully fascinated and fully revolted. "So you're, what…._bleeding_ right now?" he said in a very low, sacred tone, as if afraid that the neighbors might overhear from within their homes.

Nancy explained just the basics to him. But every time she stopped speaking, he asked another question, and the level of horror on his features increased with every answer that she gave.

"Stop asking me about it then!" she finally said, laughing.

"I don't like that something's hurting you from the inside that I can't do anything about," Tony said. "Just one more question, though. This doesn't happen to my mom, right?"

"She's still young," Nancy said. "Sorry, babe."

"Gross! But you just called me babe," Tony said. He squeezed her hand.

"Glad you liked it. But I need a more personalized term of endearment for you," Nancy said. "What Italian word would you recommend? I want people to think that I'm saying something really filthy, but it's actually just something cute. And nice."

"Cute and nice," Tony commented in disappointment, but gave her a few options. Nancy settled on _paeson_, and she quickly picked up on the pronunciation: pie-zahn. It meant "fellow countryman" or "friend."

"I think I'm doing my part to learn Italian culture for you," Nancy said. "I'm going to research my heritage so we can learn about me as well. I know I'm mostly English but I have some Irish blood too."

"Irish women give their men lap dances every night in green miniskirts," Tony said, earning himself a smack on the shoulder. "We'll honor your culture, Nancy. And we're also going to honor American culture. I'm going to take you out on a date."

Nancy needed a moment for this news to sink in. "Really?" she asked, tentatively excited. "But aren't dates for people who drive and have money? Where are you going to take me?"

"Walking is better for the environment. And you have a couple of options," Tony grinned, "because I'm earning a paycheck now instead of an allowance. And I have you to thank for it."

"Me?" Nancy asked.

"And my brother. Michael didn't start getting a paycheck until he was sixteen, but he argued with our mom and dad that if I have a girlfriend but no money, then you and I have nothing better to do than…increase the chances of another teen pregnancy in the family. By the way," Tony said, stopping to zip up Nancy's jacket, "you like my brother, right? I got to thinking that I was in trouble constantly when we first got together, so you might think he's meaner than he is. He's not all bad, and he's a good brother to have, although please don't tell him I said that."

Nancy felt sad as Tony spoke. Yes, she did like Michael, even though he was a little bossy, and she wished she didn't. It was hard enough to make plans to spy on her boyfriend's brother in order to solve the mystery, and it only made it harder that she had to spy on a person that she liked. She realized that it had been her turn to speak and she'd said nothing.

"Nancy?" Tony asked. "Why are you looking all weird now that I'm talking about Michael?"

"You really think I'd be stupid enough to confess to the only mafia member in Bayport if I didn't like _la familia_?" Nancy asked. "Yes, I like Michael."

"Oh my god," Tony said, mimicking Callie, "you think he's hot, don't you?"

"Yes," Nancy answered truthfully, and laughed when he made a comically miserable face. She took his hand and they began to walk again. "I'm allowed to think he's hot because that's how you're going to look in a few years. I'm just enjoying you in advance."

"As excuses go, that's not terrible, but it is a little creepy," Tony said. "So for our date, you have a couple of options. I'm not sure if you're a dinner-and-movie girl or not."

Nancy immediately decided against a movie; her dad would only want her to watch something animated, and she and Tony wouldn't really be talking to each other. She selected a place for dinner that was quite casual but still had waitress service.

"And Frank finally has his first home game this Friday," Tony said. They had arrived at his house and stood in front of it.

"Oh." Nancy felt unintelligent. "Frank and Biff are always at football practice, but somehow I hadn't connected that to having games."

"My lighthouse," Tony said, rapping his knuckles lightly against her forehead.

They agreed that Tony would pick her up at her house on Friday at 6:00 for dinner and the football game. Nancy said that she would ask her dad to pick her up after the game, just so he wouldn't worry as much and would still feel involved. They kept their kisses brief as it was getting very cold.

Nancy didn't know how this upcoming week could possibly move fast enough.


	17. Chapter 17

On Tuesday, Nancy and Tony kissed goodbye at the end of school and walked out different sets of school doors. He had to help at the pizzeria, and her house was in the opposite direction.

Nancy was surprised to walk out of school with Callie and Iola and see Griselda waiting for her, leaning against her grey Prius by the curb. She was relieved to see Griselda smile and wave; that meant no bad news. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, I guess," Nancy said to her friends, and they all said their goodbyes as they parted.

"Hi, sweetie," Griselda said, giving Nancy a hug (which Nancy chose to tolerate). "The boss let us out early today because we got a nice victory in court for a client."

"That's great news," Nancy said sincerely. "Oh, um…like you were actually in court?" Nancy felt guilty as she realized how little she knew of her stepmother's job. Sometimes it was hard to remember that adults had lives, too, with their own thoughts and feelings and drama.

"No. I'm a behind-the-scenes lawyer, but I did a lot of the research and exhibits that my colleagues debated and presented in court. Entertainment law court cases frequently go on for years, like many areas of law, and it's nice to get this one off my back." Griselda suddenly seemed awkward and uncertain. "Your father called. He already knows he has to work very late again, sorry. So I thought, maybe I could…drive you home? But if you wanted to walk—"

"No. A ride would be nice. It's getting cold," Nancy said, and got into the car even though she felt a sense of trepidation. Would Griselda expect some kind of bonding time when they got home?

Nancy and Griselda sat side by side in the car. Griselda didn't turn the ignition on.

Nancy waited.

"Understand, Nancy—" Griselda checked herself. "I think it will be fine if you don't want to do this. Nobody's expecting anything, really. I, um…I stopped by Mr. Pizza before I came to get you, and was chatting to Mrs. Prito for just a little bit, and I asked her for the recipes of Tony's favorite pasta and dessert…she seemed to be happy that I asked, and she wrote everything down for me. I thought maybe we could stop by the grocery store on the way home…?"

Nancy's eyes lit up. "We're going to cook for Tony?" she shrieked. "I love it! That's the best idea ever!"

Griselda smiled in relief as Nancy initiated a side-hug in the car. Griselda called Mrs. Prito and worked out a plan to surprise Tony: when it was time for him to take his regular break at Mr. Pizza that night, his cousin Freddie would tell him to get in the car instead. Michael would leave the construction crew early to help cover at the restaurant.

Nancy and Griselda went to the local, family-owned Italian grocery store to ensure quality, and Griselda even insisted that they pay extra for organic. They walked down the aisles and tried to pick out the exact ingredients that Mrs. Prito had written on the recipe.

"Oh, wait," Nancy said, suddenly feeling foolish. Then she felt bad for speaking; it was too late to back out now.

"What?" Griselda asked.

"I just feel nervous all of a sudden," Nancy said. "Tony's family owns a pizzeria. He eats Italian food constantly. How are we going to make anything as good as his mom makes it?"

"Pizzeria food made quickly is a lot different from home-cooked, no matter what stories he might have told you about the quality of the food there. I'd be surprised if his mom has the time or the inclination to cook for him after she's been working with food all week," Griselda said. She gave Nancy a wink and a quick shoulder squeeze. "Somehow, I think Tony will like it very much, whatever it ends up tasting like."

When they arrived home, Nancy put the items in the refrigerator that they didn't immediately need, while Griselda organized the rest on the kitchen counter. "The salad is just for visual appeal, to have a side dish. For some reason I don't think two teenagers are going to eat much salad," Griselda said.

They took off their shoes and donned aprons. Nancy put some Latin Freestyle Music Choice on the TV. Hannah had taught Nancy how to peel potatoes so Nancy and Griselda made quick work of it. They set the potatoes boiling and turned their attention to the cannolis.

"He's going to have to forgive us for buying the pre-made shells," Griselda said. They combined the ricotta cheese, confectioner sugar, chocolate chips, and vanilla extract and scraped the mixture into a pastry bag. Nancy tried to pipe the filling into one of the shells and used way too much pressure. The shell broke and filling sprayed out in a wide arc and made a significant mess.

"I am such a natural at this," Nancy said.

"Excellent move," Griselda commented. "Now we have an excuse to taste it." She swiped some filling off the cookie tray and held her finger up to Nancy's lips. Nancy licked it off (only feeling a little bit weird) and her eyes lit up. "My man has good taste," she declared.

"In more than just food," Griselda said and gave Nancy a nudge. They shared the broken cannoli and soon Nancy had gotten the hang of filling the shells. They moved on to mashing the potatoes and creating the dough for the gnocchi. It was repetitious work to mix the ingredients, roll the dough into tubes, and cut bite-sized pieces, but that made it all the more gratifying when the gnocchis rose to the top of the boiling water. Nancy quickly scooped each one out as soon as it had risen.

They were side by side peering in confusion at the instructions for the marinara sauce, as if the recipe would make more sense the closer they held the paper to their faces ("We have to remember to call it _gravy_, not sauce," Griselda had informed her) when Nancy heard one of her favorite songs come on. "Stevie!" she yelled. "Wait for it. This intro takes forever."

"You know Steve Winwood?" Griselda asked with admiration. "This is the decade I grew up in, not you. If you like this song, then you and I can always agree with each other on music."

"We agree on other things too. Come on, grab some props." Nancy snagged a spatula and a wooden spoon and threw her arms into the air in preparation. Griselda quickly found some utensils and waited for instructions. Finally the refrain arrived.

"The finer things keep shining through," Nancy sang loudly and off tune, jumping up and down.

"The way my soul gets lost in you," Griselda sang along, laughing when she realizing there would be no organization to this dance. Her dancing was much more mild and graceful than Nancy's wild gyrations of passion. Nancy got tired after a minute and put her props down. She grabbed Griselda's hands and they did a few twirls around the kitchen, then slid in their socks across the kitchen floor. Griselda dipped her index fingers into the flour and gave Nancy diagonal streaks under her eyes like it were eye black. Nancy gave Griselda matching lines and they took a selfie.

Griselda gasped. "Look at the time," she said. "Go set the table. Remember where we keep the nice things. And please don't be mad at me if I mess up this gravy."

"Should I dress up?" Nancy asked.

"No. Remember, he'll be coming from a shift at work," Griselda told her.

Nancy had just finished setting three places with cloth napkins and wine glasses filled with grape juice when she heard a car pull into the driveway. Car doors opened and closed. "Oh—can you light the candles really quick?" she asked Griselda. Griselda got the matchbook out of a kitchen drawer. Nancy flung her apron onto the kitchen counter and ran outside in her socks.

The sun was just completing its descent, so Nancy could see only the silhouettes of two figures brawling on her front lawn. Freddie was much older than Tony, in his late thirties—Nancy remembered hearing previously that he was actually Tony's father's cousin—yet, since it looked to be like a wrestling contest rather than a karate fight, they appeared to be evenly matched. Freddie was several inches taller than Tony, but Tony was strong and tenacious. Nancy soon perceived that Tony was trying to halt Freddie's progress toward the front door.

"This _goomba_ is trying to ruin my surprise," Tony said to Nancy as he continued to do battle. "He promised my mom…that he would come inside… and take a bunch of embarrassing pictures. Never any respect."

Freddie finally overpowered Tony, holding him in a headlock on the walkway to the front porch. "Yes. Yes, that's what I'm trying to do," Freddie confirmed with a nod. He looked over Nancy's shoulder. "Can I come inside and disrespect Tony's surprise, Griselda?"

"No!" Tony protested from his submissive position. "He's supposed to just drop me off. If you let him come in he'll tell humiliating stories about me."

Nancy turned to look at her stepmother for a decision, too amused by the situation to have an opinion one way or another.

"Why don't you promise Carmella that I'll take plenty of pictures throughout the evening, and even print them out and bring them to her later this week," Griselda said, a hint of a smile creating crinkles around her eyes. "And tell her that we'll take him home in a couple of hours."

"Anything but that. Please keep him," Freddie said in response. Nancy smiled; she was glad that Tony had so many loving people in his life, including this cousin who seemed not to take life quite as seriously as Tony's brother did.

Freddie gave Tony a kiss on the top of his head. "You're a lucky kid," he said to Tony as he released him from the headlock. He held up a hand in farewell and headed back to his car.

Tony appeared to forget all about his cousin as soon as he arrived on Nancy's front porch. "Get back inside where it's warm, Nancy," he said, sounded excited. "What's this about?"

Nancy took his hands in hers and guided him inside. She shut the door and gestured to the set table with lighted candles. "Dad's not coming home until late and Griselda got off work early. So we made dinner and dessert for you," she said. "From scratch. Not everything, but some things. Your mom told us your favorite recipes."

Tony's eyes roamed the table; then, for a long moment, he looked stunned. He looked at Nancy. "You both did all this for me?" he asked in a small voice.

Nancy nodded. She smiled at him.

Tony threw his arms around her, crushing her in a hug so powerful that Nancy lost her breath and her vision blurred.

"Oh—honey, you're hurting her," Griselda said, gently tugging on one of Tony's arms. Tony let go immediately.

Nancy blinked a few times and took a deep breath. "I did like that hug, though. But I was really just along for the ride today. It was all Hannah's idea. She asked your mom for the recipes, bought all the ingredients, walked me through everything in the kitchen…" Nancy's voice trailed off as she saw Tony's gaze focused on Griselda.

She turned to Griselda and saw her stepmother with tears in her eyes, her hands covering her mouth. "What?" Nancy asked.

Griselda paused before she spoke. "That was the best compliment you could have given me," she said, her voice a little wobbly. "Mixing up my name with Hannah's. You are such…a special young woman, Nancy. You bring happiness and passion with you every time you walk into a room."

Nancy looked at her stepmother and surprised herself by not feeling weird. It was a nice moment after a very nice afternoon. She didn't know what to say, however, so she leaned into Griselda for a hug. Griselda gripped her tightly, though not suffocating like Tony's hug had been, and Nancy decided to wait in the embrace until Griselda pulled away. Griselda opened one arm and Tony stepped into their circle for just a few seconds until Griselda pulled back abruptly.

"The sauce! Gravy," she corrected, running into the kitchen. "Sit down," she called to the two of them over her shoulder. Nancy started to sit a second before Tony thought to pull out her chair for her, and she almost ended up on the floor. He caught her just in time, both laughing, and he gave her a kiss before allowing her to take her seat independently.

"You have flour on your face from that kiss!" she said to Tony. "Somehow, even though Griselda has flour on her face, I forgot that there was some on mine. I hope the food comes out okay."

"Nancy, no matter how it comes out, I love my surprise so, so much. Most extremely severely," Tony said to her, taking her hand in his and holding it tightly.

Griselda arrived and carefully put the pot of pasta on a hot dish stand. "Well, we followed all the rules for the gnocchi, but we didn't have the hours it takes to make proper gravy. Sorry, we had to use Ragu…your mom has a very complicated way of doctoring it up, though."

Tony's eyebrows had shot up almost to his hairline. "Are you apologizing for anything about tonight?" he asked her. "It will be delicious. This is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Griselda made them wait to eat until they had taken several pictures. Tony took his first bite and a look of ecstasy appeared on his face that was greater than that of any of his and Nancy's kiss-and-touch sessions. "And you made it with potatoes," he said with his mouth full. "The only acceptable way. This is better than my mom's, I swear. It's so good."

"Your nose is growing," Nancy commented.

Tony didn't respond and instead focused on eating, which Nancy figured was a very nice compliment to their cooking.

"Thanks for setting me a plate, but I always planned to give you two some privacy," Griselda said, clearing her place.

"No," Nancy said. "I want you to sit with us."

Griselda hesitated.

"You know what I want to talk about?" Nancy said. "We will each talk about…how our _day_ went."

Griselda's eyes lit up in delight. "And school? You will tell me how school is going?"

"All those boring topics that adults want to talk about, we will talk about," Nancy confirmed, and raised her glass of grape juice. Griselda joined them and they toasted. She and Tony told Griselda about challenging classes, Frank and Callie's budding relationship, the difficulties trying to make sure Joe didn't feel like a third wheel, and, over cannolis, the (almost) full story about the fiasco surrounding Nancy's novel. They did not tell her about the mystery. Griselda took a few more pictures.

"Wow," Griselda commented. "I know every generation says this, but it's crazy what people your age have to go through these days. You're half-kids and then half-adults, with more time management and stress issues than some adults I know. I'm glad we got to talk about all of this. Thank you." She stood up and stacked their plates. "And now I insist on doing all the cleanup while you two go into the living room for exactly half an hour. It's a school night."

Nancy didn't argue with her this time. The 80s music channel was still on, which Nancy had barely noticed, so all she had to do was turn up the volume before they sat on the couch. Soon Griselda was noisily washing dishes in the kitchen, which was separated by a wall from the living room, and Nancy was grateful for the running water and clanking pots and pans. Nancy put both of her legs over Tony's left leg and all four of their hands lay entangled on Nancy's lap.

"Seriously, Nancy," Tony said in a low voice, "how can I ever thank you properly. You'll never know how awesome tonight was for me." He leaned in and gave her a lingering, closed-mouthed kiss that was somehow more intimate than some of their heavier sessions.

"Mmmmm," Nancy commented and put her head on his shoulder.

"And please thank your stepmom a thousand times for me, too," Tony said. "I can't exactly say it to her like I can say it to you. So I'll have to kiss you twice as much to make up for it."

"Okay," Nancy said, so content that she wanted to fall asleep on him.

"Plus you two got to have a good time together," Tony said. "Now, don't be mad at me…my parents have always been together so I know I don't understand…do you think you'll ever call her Mom?"

Nancy pulled herself off his shoulder to look at him. She had to kiss him once more before answering. "I'm not mad. No, I don't think I'll ever call her Mom. Mom isn't a word that's ever been in my vocabulary. I was very young when my mom died and that word is set aside for a person that loved me and my dad in the last few years of her life. But maybe…I'll start thinking of Griselda and my dad together as my _parents_."

"Griselda would like that," Tony said. "I'm sorry again about your mom, Nancy."

"It's not sad because I don't remember her, so I don't remember what to miss. Which I guess in itself is sad." Nancy looked toward the kitchen. "And I'm thinking that if I decide to say 'I love you' to either of you, it should be to her first."

Tony had tensed as Nancy was speaking. "Then I hope you and Griselda have more good times together," Tony answered slowly. "So I won't say those words to you, either, because you know I don't put pressure on you, but that doesn't stop me from thinking anything or feeling anything."

Nancy looked into his eyes and felt an excited thrill with a small undercurrent of anxiety. She loved their relationship and felt like she wanted to spend every moment of every day making him happy, but this was also her first relationship. Other people fell out of love all the time. How would this relationship last all the years through high school, his college years, and her trips solving mysteries around the world? She remembered Frank's warning that she had power over Tony, and she knew she had a lot more power over him by now; yet it wasn't exactly power to control him, just to affect him. She hoped that it would only ever lead to good things.

"I can't ever—I mean—I am so grateful for everything tonight," Tony said to Griselda as the three of them pulled up in front of Tony's house. Tony and Nancy got out of the car.

"I know you are," Griselda replied. "And you're quite welcome. Our pleasure." She handed him a big bag of leftovers through the car window.

"Are you sure…?" Tony said.

"Your mom can tell me what needs improvement when I drop off the pictures later on this week. And there's a bag of salad in there that we forgot to serve," Griselda said with a grin.

Nancy walked Tony to the door but they didn't kiss because Griselda would be able to see them. She and Griselda returned home and finished the last few minutes of the clean-up together. They were watching a Disney movie on the couch when Carson finally came home, exhausted. Nancy ran to heat up his plate of pasta while he embraced Griselda. Nancy brought him his food, chattering excitedly about the afternoon and evening that she, Griselda, and Tony had shared. Caron looked bemusedly from his daughter to his wife. The tiredness around his eyes eased significantly within only a few minutes.

_A/N: This is my favorite "good feels" chapter. The Hardys and their other chums will return in the next installment; thanks for coming along for the ride in my unconventional ship! Many thanks to those reading and those reviewing. JB_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: My fab faithfuls reviewed immediately again: ErinJordan, katnissta, Cherylann Rivers, sm2003495, angelicalkiss, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2003, xcherryxlipsx the Sunday School teacher :), Guest, welcome to Rose12, and ChrisCorso for previous chapters, so I'm posting the next chapter a tad early, which I might do more frequently to get this story wrapped up around the end of June. Everybody's getting such a kick out of Griselda's name that I'll explain my inspiration: in __Murder at the Vicarage__, by Agatha Christie, the preacher's wife is named Griselda, and her personality is so totally opposite of what her name implies that I loved the subversion of readers' expectations. Good luck with finals, to those students (and teachers) who have them! May Nancy's continued misadventures be a gentle brain massage in between more cerebral activities. JB_

Nancy awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing the next morning. It was Tony.

"Nancy, I'll die if I can't thank you properly for my dinner last night," Tony said. "My house is empty right now. Everybody's at work, or visiting family for breakfast, or something. If I could come to you I would. But the opportunity is right here, right now."

"You woke me up for a booty call?" Nancy asked groggily. She looked at her clock; it was only ten minutes before her alarm had been scheduled to go off.

"Will it help if I say please?"

"Yes," Nancy said. "If I pack breakfast and don't wash my hair…"

"Roll around in mud and see if I mind. Please."

Nancy's skin woke up when she was in the shower and she began to feel anticipation. She threw on the first matching items of clothes she found and headed downstairs.

"Nancy," Carson commented approvingly from the kitchen table. "I'm always telling you to wake up earlier so you don't have to rush. Good job. See what a better morning you're having?"

"I'm having a great morning, Dad. You're absolutely right," Nancy said. When he focused on the newspaper again, she snuck a half cup of coffee and swigged it black despite the taste. She snagged a banana, a granola bar, and her backpack and left as soon as her dad headed back upstairs for his shower.

"All that rushing and we still don't have much time," Nancy lamented as she burst into Tony's house, stepping out of her shoes.

"I set the alarm on my phone to go off when we need to leave." Tony was ready for school except for his shoes and shirt off. He took her wrist and guided her so quickly to his living room couch that she almost tripped on her own feet.

He threw a blanket over them and soon Nancy wondered how she could have possibly survived fourteen years without this time with him. The caffeine added to her energy level, which he responded to. Somehow they managed think of a couple more things to try that were within their pre-determined rules. Nancy thought that it would be very awkward and embarrassing if they were caught, but that the level of danger also added to the thrill. At one point Nancy became so irritated by the layer of cloth separating their skin that she began to peel off her sweater; Tony put his hand on top of hers and guided the sweater back down. They continued, less frenzied but just as passionate, until the alarm went off. Tony sat up and thrust both hands into his curly mop of hair.

"I need a minute to recover," he said, breathing heavily. "Or I'll be walking sideways to school."

It never took Nancy long to recover, although she didn't like to stop. She propped herself up on her elbows and enjoyed watching Tony try to cool himself down. She loved having this effect on him.

They fixed their own clothes and shoes, fixed each other's hair, and began to walk to school. Nancy took his hand. "That was sweet of you," she said. "To put my shirt back down. My body didn't like it, but my heart did."

"I don't ever want you doing anything that you'll regret later. We'll make those choices when we're thinking clearly," Tony answered. He squeezed her hand.

"And I guess however far we take it, we can never go back. It's not like we'll go back to doing _less_ the next time." Nancy noticed something and drew up to her full height. "Hey," she said, "I think I grew some more and I'm half an inch taller than you."

"You really want to talk about inches right now, Nancy?" Tony asked, and told her moderately dirty jokes the rest of the way to school.

Tony stopped by Nancy's locker with her while she transferred the books she'd need for morning classes. Nancy thought she saw a few pairs of eyes on her, but decided it must just be paranoia because of how she and Tony had started their morning.

Biff came up to Tony and held up his hand for a high five. Tony completed it, but looked at Biff suspiciously.

"Nice work, Italian Stallion," another jock commented on his way to class.

Nancy saw a rapidly approaching blur in her peripheral vision and turned just in time to see Callie advancing with determined focus. Callie grabbed Nancy's hand. "I hope you're proud of yourself," she hissed to Tony before yanking Nancy down the hallway.

"I'll bring your backpack to class, Nancy," Tony called after them, confusion written all over his face. Nancy looked back and saw Joe approach Tony and lean in to speak to him. Callie tugged on her hand again, pulling her straight ahead.

Callie stopped at the tenth grade classroom and gestured for Vanessa to join them. Nancy meekly allowed her two friends to lead her to the girls' bathroom. The bell for first period rang. The bathroom was deserted except for them.

"Look at your neck and tell me if you see a problem," Callie said, positioning Nancy in front of the mirror.

Nancy gasped. "Did I walk into something?"

"It's a hickey, Nancy," Vanessa said, amused. "The size of Alaska."

"Really?" Nancy said, her voice tender. She ran her finger along the dark-colored patch of skin and thought about how it had gotten there.

"This is _serious_, Nancy," Callie said sternly. "It will take _days_ for it to go away, which is pretty much like forever. How are you going to walk around like this, go home and face your dad and Griselda like this? Van is the only one of us who wears makeup, so we really have to hope that she can help you."

Callie had a point. Nancy began to feel uneasy and embarrassed.

Vanessa took her foundation out of her purse and did her best to blot out Tony's mark; however, Vanessa's complexion was significantly more tanned than Nancy's pale skin, so the shade didn't remotely match. Tears began to form in Nancy's eyes.

"Hey," Vanessa soothed. "I'm wearing a turtleneck today. Let's just switch shirts."

Nancy's expression brightened at the prospect of a solution. "But you're so much taller than me, Van. And your boobs are bigger."

"Try them on, at least," Callie urged. "It's a good idea." Callie was too petite to be able to offer her shirt.

Vanessa's turtleneck fully covered Nancy's hickey. Nancy swam a little in the shirt, but she'd seen many other girls wear oversized shirts recently and it seemed to be the style. Nancy's plain red sweater, however, fit very tightly on Vanessa. Vanessa's midriff showed slightly and there was nothing left to imagination.

Nancy and Callie gawked at Vanessa.

"What?" Vanessa asked. She looked in the mirror uncertainly.

"_Curves_, that's what!" Callie said. "I never realized how many of them you have. The guys are going to pass out."

"This is not my style," Vanessa said in a small voice. "I don't draw attention to myself."

"I'm sorry about this. Go to your locker and put your coat back on," Nancy advised.

"Or," Callie said, "enjoy the attention for just one day. Walk like this, V." She did a slow hip swagger across the bathroom floor.

Vanessa's shoulders relaxed slightly and she imitated Callie's walk. She wasn't too bad at it. The three girls giggled in excitement.

"We're late for class already, so why don't you confess to us exactly what your man did to you, so I can make sure Frank doesn't do it to me," Callie said to Nancy.

Nancy's eyes lit up. "So you and Frank are official? How far have you gone?"

Callie looked uncomfortable. "I just opened myself up for questioning, didn't I? No, we're not official, and we haven't done anything yet. I like him, it's just hard to take that final step when this is so totally the opposite of how I've thought of him my whole life. What if he wants to do boring things all the time? What if I'm not smart enough for him?"

Just then a streak opened the door and flew past them and shut a bathroom stall. They all heard sobbing.

Vanessa turned to Callie. "Was that…?"

"Yes, it was. Iola," Callie said, walking over to the stall and gently knocking. "Hey, you're in luck, chickie. It's only me, Van, and Nancy in here right now."

Nancy and Vanessa chimed in with their encouragements.

Iola opened the stall door and exited into Callie's arms. She cried harder for another minute. When she pulled back, Nancy was ready with some crumpled toilet paper to help clean up her face.

"Thanks, guys. I'm sorry. Nothing terrible happened. It was just surprising." Iola's eyes widened as she noticed Vanessa's attire. "Wow, Van. You look great."

Vanessa tried to hide a smile but couldn't.

"So," Iola sighed, "Phil just received news by email this morning that he was accepted into Space Camp from this coming January to June. In Alabama."

Nancy's brow furrowed. "I thought Space Camp was only for a week?" Then Nancy felt bad for speaking. Girls needed full silence to talk through their feelings; others should ask questions only when the opening monologue was concluded. Guys seemed not to care as much about the order of imparting information and emotional processing.

Iola rolled her eyes. "For normal people, yes. But Phil was accepted into some kind of very exclusive training program, a train-the-trainer thing, so he can live the rest of his life at Space Camp teaching younger students, and then I guess live on the moon in his spare time, and the teachers here will email him his work so he'll be in regular eleventh grade next fall. It's just such a Phil thing, you know? I'm not mad at him for applying—he's always applying to stuff like this, and probably told me all about it when I wasn't listening—but he was out at the lockers this morning, bragging about it, looking like he was having an orgasm, and of course had no clue that I was freaking out!"

Iola was leaning against the bathroom wall, the others fanned in a supportive semicircle in front of her. Nancy, Callie, and Vanessa made sure to make supportive sounds and facial expressions as Iola spoke.

"So I also feel really bad that I can't just be happy," Iola continued. "Of course this is a great opportunity for him. So then Frank—not Phil, but _Frank_—took me aside and explained that Phil assumes that he and I will be a couple forever, so it just doesn't occur to Phil that being apart for a few months would be a big deal. But it's like a few months feels like absolutely forever, you know?"

The other three girls agreed that, yes, it did.

"And if Space Camp is making him a trainer, then we are looking at much more than January to June. That will be his job. Away from Bayport. So, what, Phil and I are going to live in an anti-gravity chamber forever? Will he ask me to wait for him? And can I really ask him to wait for me, when he could be meeting nerdy girls that actually understand what he's talking about?" Iola's eyes filled with fresh tears.

"He would wait for you," Vanessa said as Callie said, "Tough decision, though, Iola, and I don't blame you for being upset."

"So, it looks like Phil and I were the first of our group to couple up, and now we might be the only single people. You and Tony, you and Frank," Iola commented to Nancy and Callie, and then, fixing her eyes on Vanessa, "and, since my misery is making me brave, I think it's time that you made a play for Joe."

"I am not making a play for Joe," Vanessa snapped, her eyes sparking.

"I've been going along with this make-believe for far too long. You think I don't see how he looks at me, and how you look at him?" Iola demanded. "Joe will get over me, Van. I will never go out with him, ever, knowing what it will do to you. I'm with Phil now anyway."

"You and Joe will do whatever the hell your hearts tell you to do," Vanessa said, and Nancy was alarmed to see that Vanessa hadn't raised her voice, but her entire body was shaking. "I am not dating someone who's in love with someone else. I want him to be happy, even if it's not with me, and I'm not going to cause his unhappiness by keeping you two apart. I think I'm quite used to living with this ache, and I can do it for a lot longer than this."

A silence descended on the bathroom for a long moment. Then Callie took Vanessa's hand and looked a foot upward into the older girl's eyes.

"Van, you can't wait years for him," Callie said quietly. "That crap is for crappy movies. This is your life we're talking about."

"I'm capable of loving someone else," Vanessa said. "I'm not waiting for him. But I'll never stop…caring about him."

There was another heavy, quiet pause; then Callie stepped back and took a few pacing steps. "This was supposed to be a good morning. I had good news for everyone. Mrs. Hardy wrote us up an interactive murder mystery. We're going to be searching for clues all around town, scavenger-hunt style, interviewing people in costumes—"

"Yes!" Nancy screeched in happiness.

"—a special tea, the whole deal. She's calling it a Sherlock Holmes Saturday. This weekend," Callie continued.

Vanessa appeared intrigued and Iola even cracked a smile. "That really sounds like fun," Iola said.

"And you know what else she said to me? Last night?" Callie looked at each of them in turn. "She's deliberately making it boys versus girls since she noticed that almost all of us have paired up and the single people are feeling left out. We've done nothing but talk about boys since the second we entered this bathroom. When was the last time we had a sleepover? Van should barely be noticing which of us have boyfriends, we should be hanging out so much with her. And the four of us need to be so tight that whoever breaks up with a guy knows that they have plenty of supportive girlfriends who will be there to pick up the pieces. Who's with me?" Callie put her hand into the center of the group of girls.

Nancy smiled. She put her hand on top of Callie's.

Iola and Vanessa had just moved to reach their hands in when a Teacher's Assistant banged the door open, startling them all. "I'm walking each of you to class," she snapped. "And I will heavily advocate for detention for all of you."

Vanessa's tenth grade classroom was on the way to the ninth grade classroom. The Teacher's Assistant dropped off Vanessa; when Vanessa entered the classroom, Callie, Nancy, and Iola heard gasps from the girls and catcalls from the boys.

Callie grabbed Nancy's elbow. "Your sweater," she whispered excitedly.

Nancy, Callie, and Iola headed into their classroom. Nancy looked at Tony's expression and realized just how worried he'd been. Joe had probably told him about the hickey, but the three girls were quite late to class and Tony had had no idea what they were doing.

"Nancy, why are you wearing a blue turtleneck now when you came to school this morning in a red sweater?" Biff called out to her.

Tony shot a rubber band quite hard at Biff's back. Biff obviously felt it. It was a miracle that each of them got off with only a warning from the teacher.

Tony waited until the teacher had turned. He pointed to Nancy's turtleneck and gave her a thumbs-up. "Sorry," he mouthed. "Are you mad at me?"

Nancy shook her head no.

He passed her a note.

**If any guy dares to make jokes about what kind of a girl you are, that guy will feel pain.**

Nancy smiled and passed him a note in return.

**Go easy on them. School rumors don't bother me anymore and it might be nice to feel like a badass.**

The bell rang and Nancy gave Tony brief details about the help she'd gotten from the girls in the bathroom and their recommitment to their friendship. They walked out in the hallway and heard a resounding crash. Joe stood at his locker, surrounded by dropped books, staring down the hallway with his mouth hanging open. They joined him.

"Tony," Joe whispered, nodding his head down the hallway. "Is that Vanessa?"

Tony gazed toward where Joe had nodded, then immediately looked away. "I have no idea, Joe. I have eyes only for Nancy."

"Good answer," Nancy said approvingly. She took two fingers and gently pushed Joe's lower jaw back to where it met his upper. "Van and I had to change shirts because of the love mark your best friend left on me."

Joe turned to Tony. "You're going to give Nancy more hickeys, right? Maybe if I give you five dollars per hickey?"

Nancy wanted to smack him but Tony did it for her.

"Looks like this might be your only day to enjoy the view," Tony commented. "A picture lasts longer."

Joe shoved his books back into his locker, grabbed his backpack, and fumbled for his phone on his way down the hallway.

"That would be fun, double dating with them," Tony said as they arrived for second period. "Although it's going to take more than just a tight shirt. Hey, did you hear about our Sherlock Saturday we're doing this weekend?" They dissolved into excited speculation about it.

The four girls frantically worked on their homework in detention that afternoon, trying to get it all done so they could enjoy the rest of the evening together. After obtaining parental approval, they headed to Vanessa's house, stopping at a convenience store on the way there to buy foundation in Nancy's skin tone. Nancy selected some more turtlenecks from Vanessa's collection to wear for the next several days and the girls agreed not to speak about boys for the entire hangout. Vanessa's mom ordered them pizza. They put on an old black-and-white creature feature and Callie had them all in stitches providing commentary on what each character was secretly thinking and how the plot holes might be explained.

Nancy called Tony after Vanessa's mom had dropped her off last. Tony had some exciting news.

"Frank stopped by my house and asked me for advice on how to please a woman!" Tony said, sounding awed and quite flattered. "Well, he asked it a little better than that. Frank Hardy, who knows absolutely everything and probably read thirty books about it. He said that somehow he didn't quite trust Phil's advice on women. You know how you've always wanted to open a detective agency? I've always wanted to open a consulting agency for virgins, helping them stumble through life."

"Right, because you're not a virgin yourself," Nancy played along. "Congratulations, _paeson_. So what did you do? Show him on a pillow?"

"No. First I told him that you liked learning Italian words so maybe he should teach Callie some romantic French words to get her into the mood. After that it was quite an awkward conversation, because making out is kind of hard to describe. I did my best. We had to figure it out on our own, Nancy, but Callie will just close her eyes and feel bliss."

Nancy laughed and told him again just how much she liked him and how good he made her feel. Then it was his turn; he told her to curl up under her covers and, as she drifted off to sleep, he talked about their times together and how special she was to him.

The following night was Thursday, the night of Business Law class. Nancy was surprised and a little disappointed to see Polly picking her up by herself, in her own car.

"Forget Michael. Who needs _guys_ anyway," Polly muttered, and Nancy knew something bad must have happened between them. She wondered if the mystery had anything to do with it. Polly was quiet and pensive, and Nancy took notes in class but didn't ask any questions.

Nevertheless, Nancy was happy and content as she went to bed that night. Tomorrow night was her dinner and football game date with Tony.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Thank you for the continued reads and reviews! If you solve the mystery in the next few chapters, try to figure out each character's involvement and the sequence of events if you want a further challenge. Frank's summary email is in chapter 16. JB_

Nancy came home to an empty house that Friday afternoon and felt an ache of loneliness. She certainly didn't want to go to an after-school club like she was a kid who needed babysitting, nor did she want to admit her loneliness to her father, but she thought it would be nice to have someone greet her at the end of the school day. The thought of creating a rotating schedule of afternoons between Callie, Iola, and Vanessa's houses seemed a bit like overstaying her welcome.

Nancy checked her email. Nothing new from Bess or George. Disappointed, she checked her sent items to try to remember whose turn it was to email, and realized that she hadn't emailed either of them since the previous weekend. Her eyes widened as she realized she hadn't written to Hannah in a couple of weeks, either. Griselda had asked her every night since their dinner night with Tony to select a couple of pictures to mail to Hannah; why had it seemed like such an inconvenience? Was Nancy growing further apart from Bess, George, and Hannah, even after all the pacts they'd made and promises sworn? If Bayport was her home now, then that meant that River Heights was no longer her home. Nancy distracted herself from these miserable thoughts by immediately rectifying the situation, typing Bess and George lengthy, personalized emails, and writing a letter to Hannah that was so long that her hand started to cramp.

The doorbell rang at 5:58 and Nancy leaped up excitedly, putting her coat on and gathering her belongings. Nancy left a note on the dining room table to remind her dad and Griselda that she was at the football game tonight and her dad should pick her up by 9:00. Tony pushed Nancy's turtleneck down and gently kissed her hickey, which was only beginning to fade. Then he took her hand and their date began.

Nancy was glad that they'd agreed not to dress up. "Whoops," she said as they began to walk. "I was supposed to keep you waiting at least five minutes before I answered the doorbell, wasn't I? Now you're going to think I'm desperate."

"I already know that you're desperate because you're with _me_," Tony said, grinning and tickling her, and Nancy laughed and decided to stop worrying about date protocol.

"I still can't believe we're together," Nancy said to Tony after they'd ordered their food at the restaurant. "Just think about what the odds are. If my dad hadn't met Griselda in law school…and decided to contact her again…and if she wasn't still single and living in Bayport…and if I hadn't gone to roller skating night, and Callie hadn't wanted to stir the pot by skating with me on the couples dance…"

"Then my life would be a living hell," Tony finished, putting his arm around her. Nancy had been happy when Tony had decided to sit on the same side of the booth as her.

"Exactly," Nancy agreed. "I'm just so…_happy_. I'm a little bit worried that I'm going to do something wrong, since I never hung out with guys before."

"Believe me, I'm much more likely to do something wrong than you are," Tony said. "And I'm really happy with you too. I think it's a good thing that you never hung around with guys in River Heights because some girls have learned how to play head games with their guys and you never did."

Their food arrived soon. Tony took one bite of his burger and launched into a discourse about how nobody knew how to cook a burger except for his family at Mr. Pizza; he explained to Nancy for the umpteenth time that burgers must be cooked slowly, flipped constantly with the juices in them, rather than these cheap joints that pressed the juice out of them with a spatula.

"Nevertheless you will enjoy your food," Nancy eventually interrupted. "We are on a date and it's better to have squeezed-out juices than to have to do the dishes."

Tony nodded in submission and finished his food quickly. "So I looked up the Drexel University website and found that they don't really have any pre-detective courses…what's the name of what you and Frank and Joe will be studying in college again?"

Nancy frowned. "College? Criminal Justice, I guess. But I never really thought about going to college. I kind of thought I'd graduate high school and be eighteen, solving mysteries around the world. I have these daydreams where the police are stumped and they come to me, asking for hints," she said sheepishly.

"Of course that's how it will be," Tony agreed. "But you'll have so many people calling you for cases that you can choose which ones you want to take. I looked it up. It's called 'PRN' work. You can take cases during the summer, Christmas break, spring break, whatever, and _still_ go to college. There are a million colleges in Philadelphia. Say the word and I'll research which ones let you study Criminal Justice."

Nancy thought about what it would be like to go to college in the same city as Tony. It was mind blowing; she had only ever thought of herself as a single agent. But it was 2018, after all, and clients might want her to have some credentials after her name. And what about Tony? Would he be waiting for her in Bayport or Philadelphia, going to school or work while she solved mysteries…or would he come with her on some mysteries, like a team? Would it be her and Tony in one room and Frank and Joe in another? Or Frank and Callie? She would have to be married to Tony, or she'd never hear the end of it from her dad…but also, if she were married to Tony, then the River Heights Sunday School teachers couldn't use her as an example of an evil person when she and Tony—

"What?" Tony asked.

Nancy felt herself blushing from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck.

"What's my girl thinking about," Tony said, hooking his hand around her hip in the way that she loved. "Don't lie, now, or I'll know."

"Thinking about what it would be like to be married to you," Nancy mumbled. Maybe he wouldn't hear.

But he had obviously heard. "What exactly about getting married are you looking forward to the most?" Tony asked, pretending innocence.

"Washing your socks, _paeson_," Nancy said.

"Hey, that's Joe's type of sarcasm right there. Please don't sound like Joe while we're on a date."

"I knew there was a reason why you liked me."

"Any more sass and I'm going to bend you over—"

But Tony's threat was never finished, as the waitress arrived and gave them their bill. Tony offered to the waitress to have Nancy wash the dishes instead, earning himself his usual smack on the shoulder. He kissed Nancy and paid the check.

"I guess we have time to figure out college," Nancy said as they left the diner and walked to the football game.

Tony didn't answer for a while. "Yeah," he finally said. "But just to let you know, Nancy, I'm really, really getting used to having you around."

They arrived at the football game and Nancy had the familiar sensation of feeling like there was something wrong with her. Why would anyone care about whether a ball crossed a line? But the sun was down, Tony was holding her hand, and there was a sense of excitement and community in the air; she knew that she would still have a good time.

The game was already underway. Nancy and Tony found an available space by the fence. She felt a bit chilly but enjoyed the contrast of Tony's warm, protective arm around her shoulders.

"Oh my god, Nancy," Nancy heard in her ear, and turned with a smile to see Callie.

"It really is crazy how cute you two are together," Callie commented, her eyes twinkling. She was wearing a jersey identical to Frank's except for size. "You look so different and you're such different people, but you go together so well."

"Thanks, Cal," Tony said with a grin, and Nancy squeezed her hand.

"Oh my god," Callie said again, this time in alarm. Polly was striding toward the other team's side of the field. She looked focused, determined, and not at all happy. Michael trailed her more slowly.

"He's like Michael Myers," Tony said into Nancy's ear. "He'll follow her, but only at his own leisurely pace."

"Who's Michael Myers?" Nancy asked.

Tony sighed. "Seriously, Nancy. We're getting you all caught up on movies when we're in college, no matter what your dad says."

"Tony. The details, now, seriously," Callie hissed.

"Michael doesn't talk to me about what goes on between him and Polly," Tony said, as he'd explained to Nancy that morning. "And Iola said she doesn't know anything. But I did hear his side of a phone call a couple of hours ago. He kept saying another time, they'll go away together soon, now's not a good time because of work. I guess Polly wanted to go away together and Michael didn't want to."

"What is he, a _stunad_?" Nancy asked.

"He is not a _stunad_, it's just, I don't know…Michael is always focused on _la familia_, on work…he can't just pack up and go on a long weekend at the last second," Tony said defensively.

"And why the hell not?" Callie demanded. "Your parents wouldn't give him a weekend off?"

"Sure they would, it's just—Michael is used to a routine," Tony said. "I wouldn't make the same choice, I'd go away with Nancy, but my family doesn't really go on vacations. Polly needs to give him time to get used to the idea."

Their mild debate was interrupted when Frank got slammed in a tackle. Callie put her hands over her mouth.

"Isn't it terrible to watch," Nancy said to Callie. Nancy did not want to see Frank in pain. She turned around and leaned her back against the fence.

Michael's truck was in the second row in the parking lot, partially hidden by streetlight posts and other vehicles.

Nancy squinted. Sure enough, her vision had been correct. Polly had left the window down on the passenger side.

Callie had wandered away from them for a better vantage point to see if Frank was okay or not. Nancy quickly scanned her surroundings. The bleachers blocked most people's view of the parking lot, and she didn't recognize anyone else in the near vicinity. If she didn't appear suspicious, only the people who knew her or Michael would know that she wasn't supposed to be in the truck. She thought of "The Purloined Letter" by Edgar Allen Poe, one of the first detective stories ever written, and how sometimes the best way to hide was out in the open.

Nancy looked at the very long line at the concession stand and turned to Tony. "Can you get me a Sprite?"

"Sure," Tony said. "Come with me. I want to spend every minute of tonight with you."

Nancy thought fast. "But this is our first real, planned-out date," she said. "I want it to be just like the movies, the PG ones that I'm allowed to watch, where the guy goes and gets the girl what she wants."

Tony gave her a skeptical look. Nancy held her breath.

"Okay," he said. "And Frank's fine, by the way. He's still in for the next play."

"Good. Meet me behind the bleachers, right there," Nancy said, pointing to a spot that he wouldn't be able to see from the concession stand.

Tony gave her another strange look but went to do as she'd asked. Nancy continued to scan her surroundings as she headed toward Michael's truck. She thought of excuses as she walked, in case she got caught, but none of them sounded remotely convincing so she really hoped she didn't get caught. She pulled up the camera app on her phone to prepare.

Nancy saw that the truck door was unlocked as well, and deduced that it must be a serious disagreement that Michael and Polly were having in order to make him so distracted. Nancy looked for them; they were standing toward the other side of the football field, engrossed in each other, probably arguing.

Nancy glanced in the truck bed. It was empty. She opened the passenger side door and looked under the bench seat. There was a blanket and a small tool box. Nancy opened the tool box, saw nothing remarkable, and had a moment of crisis when the lid wouldn't close, but finally it clicked back into place. She opened the glove box next and, keeping everything inside, sifted through its contents: the owner's manual, insurance and registration papers, a flashlight, condoms, granola bars. It had been less than a minute but she was starting to panic; as she let go of the owner's manual, the back cover opened and she saw a small blue square of folded paper tucked inside.

Nancy frowned. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a prescription script in Michael's name for a medication she'd never heard of.

She took a focused, zoomed in picture of it with her camera phone, then re-folded it and put everything back exactly where she'd found it. She shut the glove box. She fully shut the truck door, despite the loud noise it made, and walked around the less-lighted back corner path of the parking lot to get to her meeting point with Tony. He hadn't arrived yet.

Now that the risky part was over, Nancy thought about the implications of what she'd found, and a deep uneasiness settled within her. What was the medication? Would she be the person who had to tell Tony that his brother was very sick? Was that why Michael couldn't go on a long weekend with Polly?

Nancy decided—with some guilt at her cowardice—that she would not be in this alone. She and Joe would look up the medication together and make a plan from there. If they had to give Tony bad news, she and Joe would do it side by side.

When Tony finally came back with her Sprite, she nearly fell into his arms for a comforting hug.

"Hey. What's wrong? Why are you acting weird?" Tony asked her. He looked concerned but his eyes were also narrowed in wary confusion. Nancy knew that she had to start being more careful; the person she was dating was not stupid.

"My period is leaving me," Nancy said on a whim. "I always get emotional on my last day."

Tony immediately respected this answer, his expression a mixture of revolted reverence.

Nancy wondered if she had just done what Tony had been talking about earlier, playing head games with her guy. She wondered if she really wanted to be a detective after all.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Thank you as always for the continued support! Mrs. Hardy is indebted to the board game "Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective" by Ystari Games for this chapter's Sherlock Saturday. It's not a big deal if you have a hard time following the Sherlock Saturday case, as the rushed characters/plotline are an activity for this chapter only (although, as you shall see, Nancy learns a bit about her real-life mystery along the way). Happy Father's Day to all men who have/had a caregiving/mentoring role in someone's life. JB_

The next day, Saturday, Nancy walked so quickly to Angel of the Sea Bed and Breakfast that she was almost running. It was sunny and quite warm for October, and Nancy allowed herself to be grateful for global warming for just one day. There was a poster on the porch, welcoming them to Sherlock Holmes's Mystery of the Solicitous Solicitor. Iola joined her, coming from the opposite direction, and the girls clasped hands and jumped up and down, a necessary ritual before entering the large parlor.

The rest of their peers were already assembled, even though it was only 10:40, twenty minutes before the figurative curtain was scheduled to rise. Frank, Joe, Tony, Phil, and Biff were sitting on the right side of the parlor, Callie and Vanessa on the left. Iola made a beeline for Phil and Nancy for Tony, giving their guys a kiss and caress.

"Excuse me, Watson?" Callie said, addressing Mrs. Hardy. "Are my constables allowed to flirt with our enemies?"

"No, because we might as well get started since we're all here." Mrs. Hardy was wearing a flapper's outfit from the 1920s. Joe had told their group that the costumes for Sherlock Saturday were not exactly 1890s London, as the adults were wearing whatever the Bayport Gateway Theatre had been willing to loan them for the day. Nancy and Iola sat down on the girls' side of the parlor. Two staff members from the bed and breakfast also sat down to watch. If this Sherlock Holmes Saturday went well, Angel of the Sea would turn it into a paying event for their residents.

Mr. Hardy as Sherlock wandered in, pretending to smoke a pipe. Chief Collig as Inspector Lestrade followed him, both men in pinstripe suits. Nancy smiled to herself. Joe had also told the group that he'd overheard the two men fighting bitterly like children over who got to play which role. Finally Chief Collig had given in and agreed to play incompetent Lestrade, with the caveat that Mr. Hardy owed him many hours of free case consultation.

"I have a rather intriguing problem for you, Sherlock," Chief Collig began. "I received a call from the offices of Sloane, Swathmore and Cartwright—one of the most prestigious legal firms in London, with trust funds under their care amounting to many millions, with specialties in large contract negotiations, as you're well aware—that one of their newly promoted junior partners just dropped dead this morning of apparent heart failure. The doctor at the scene suspects poison, as the victim, Melvin Tuttle, was twenty-eight and in good health. Yes, I would stake my reputation on the fact that he was poisoned."

"And a sterling reputation it is, Lestrade," said Mr. Hardy, and Chief Collig gave him a withering glare that may or may not have been indicated in the script.

"And so," Chief Collig continued, "I sent the cup of tea and biscuit on Tuttle's desk to Professor Murray for analysis, but they didn't have any poison in them. Just the lip of the teacup had a trace of an element they weren't very familiar with. According to the two secretaries, Mrs. Porter and Miss Spring, the three of them had arrived at work at 8:00 this morning to finish some important contract negotiations that needed to be mailed by the lunchtime post. The work was of such an urgent nature that one of the senior partners, Swathmore, had been in the night before with the same three workers to oversee the process. Another senior partner, Cartwright, had taken an unexpected leave of absence three days ago. At 10:00 Tuttle gave eleven letters to Mrs. Porter to be mailed and she noticed that he appeared tired and unsteady, his hand shaking, but she assumed it was due to the stress of the deadline. The two women heard a crash soon afterward and Tuttle had already died by the time they ran into his office."

"I'm assuming you grilled the two ladies?" Mrs. Hardy interjected, playing Watson. "Poison is, after all, a woman's weapon."

"Yes, and their stories match," Lestrade answered.

Nancy took notes throughout Act 1. There was mention of a jealous colleague who had done good work for the legal firm and resigned when Tuttle was promoted over him. There were many rumors that Tuttle was a womanizer. The third senior partner, Sloane, appeared to sign whatever papers his partners put on his desk and allowed them to make the decisions.

"Okay, sleuths," Mrs. Hardy said after the scene had concluded, "I'm going to pass out papers to your team captains with the questions you will be trying to answer throughout the day. You have seven interviews to conduct at five different locations. Lunch will be provided at one of the locations. Teams need to be back here by 4:00 for the final wrap-up and there is no advantage to getting here any earlier because we want you to slow down and enjoy the day. The goal is for both teams to get all correct answers so that the guys and girls tie."

A couple of heckling comments were exchanged between teams, which Mrs. Hardy ignored. The girls had elected Callie as their team captain and the guys had elected Frank. Callie and Frank sat in a corner to coordinate which locations their teams would visit in what order so the teams were always separated. Towards the end of the interview, when the adults were talking among themselves, Nancy saw Callie whisper a long statement into Frank's ear. Frank's jaw dropped along with his pen and paper. Usually his blush had a beginning point and gradually spread, but this time his entire face and neck were aflame in record time.

"Hey!" Joe snapped at Callie. "Quit distracting our captain with your filthy talk."

"I had to even up the playing field," Callie explained to him. "You and Biff each have three quarters of a brain, so it was four girls against four and a half guys."

The teams exited the bed and breakfast and went their separate ways with a few final competitive taunts. Callie showed the girls the list of questions, which included: By whom, why, and how was Melvin Tuttle killed? Who was the killer's accomplice? Why did senior partner Cartwright suddenly go on leave?

Their first interview was at the Cohens' house. Phil's parents were wearing dress clothes, and Phil's mom was wearing a very large hat that was so unique and flamboyant that it was difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. Mrs. Cohen took her acting responsibilities seriously, saucily refusing them the information they needed, until Callie stopped playing nice and Mrs. Cohen soon agreed to speak.

"Yes, this law firm was handling a delicate contract for my and my husband's textile business," Mrs. Cohen said. She showed the girls a receipt of business transactions with math that didn't quite add up. "The two of us don't have much business sense and we trust that firm implicitly. They're the most prominent firm in London, you know. A considerable sum of money was involved."

Their next interview was on the docks by the bay, with a pirate who looked and sounded like she needed immediate psychiatric care. Nancy soon learned that this was Frank and Joe's Aunt Gertrude, whom she'd heard so much about. The four girls heard blustery battle stories from all over the globe, complete with sword demonstrations, until Nancy finally cut her off and asked her if she'd heard of the most prestigious legal firm in London.

"Never heard of 'em," Aunt Gertrude said, a little too quickly.

"She reeked of lilacs," Nancy commented as they headed way across town to Biff's apartment. "Is that what she always smells like?"

"I've never noticed it before today," Iola said. "Hey, let's cut across Bayport Cemetery for a shortcut."

Nancy felt her heartrate quicken as an idea began to percolate. She had to take a risk sometime or she wouldn't make any more progress on her case. Hiding in plain sight had worked for her last night when she'd searched Michael's truck; maybe the girls wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary about her upcoming question.

Several minutes later, the girls crossed through the cemetery gate. "Graveyards creep me out," Nancy commented. "They make me wonder about everybody's story. Oh, my gosh, this girl was only twenty-two when she died! Does anybody know how Sophie Conners died?"

"My mom told me about her when she was giving me a talk about good choices," Iola said, not breaking stride. "Sophie was Coach Hafetz's older sister. She died from doing drugs."

Nancy forced herself to keep walking and keep a neutral expression. She hadn't expected it to be this easy to find out. All that work she and Joe had done at the library, and Iola had known all along. "What kind of drugs?" she asked, hoping her tone sounded only mildly interested.

Iola shrugged. "I don't know."

"Hey, that makes sense, and it really sucks," Callie said. "Remember when Coach Hafetz was out here the weekend of the Scouts retreat, Nancy, when we got picked up for violating curfew? He kept saying 'not again, I promise,' and he must have been standing in front of his sister's grave. Maybe he blames himself for what happened to his sister, and he was promising her that he won't make the same mistake again. Or he's just trying to keep somebody off drugs, so the same death doesn't happen again."

Nancy had to work much harder to keep her emotions off her face. She couldn't believe that she'd forgotten that Callie was with her and Frank on that night and she'd carelessly reminded Callie about it. She desperately wanted to tell the girls about the mystery, but five people already knew, and it would be a miracle if even five people could keep a secret. And now, if the mystery was really about drugs, it was quite a delicate situation that could affect a lot of innocent loved ones.

"That's really sad," Vanessa commented. "That problem runs in families, they say."

"We've got to focus now, though, girls," Callie said, and Nancy was relieved to see Callie distractedly scanning their list of questions one more. "Biff's mom is playing Mrs. Porter, one the secretaries who was at her desk when Mr. Tuttle died in the next office over. She had better not be a problem or she doesn't know who she's up against."

Biff's mom was not a problem, as she appeared to answer all questions openly. Biff's five-year-old little sister Mary looked on in wide-eyed interest. "You know, it's interesting," Biff's mom said thoughtfully as the girls prepared to leave. "Melvin Tuttle gave me eleven letters to mail that morning. Ten of them were relating to the contract, but the eleventh appeared to be of a personal nature. I must be mistaken, though, because the lady he addressed it to is married. She's Mr. Cartwright's wife, actually."

The girls headed over to Nancy's house to interview Griselda, Mr. Cartwright's wife. Griselda had smeared mascara and couldn't stop fake crying.

"So sad about Melvin. So sad, so sad," Griselda sniffed dramatically. "You'll stay for lunch, won't you?"

The girls took some time off from the Case of the Solicitous Solicitor to enjoy the lunch that the bed and breakfast staff served: tea, small rectangular sandwiches, scones and clotted cream, and a variety of small pastries for dessert.

"Thank goodness you girls eat civilized portion sizes. We were afraid that we would run out," one of the staff members remarked. "The boys were already here and they ate…much, much more than we were expecting them to."

Throughout lunch, Nancy continued to smell a whiff of something familiar. She determined that the scent was coming from a small wastebasket near her, empty except for one envelope. She pulled it out and examined the envelope, saw that there was no letter inside, and read over the front. It was addressed from Mr. Tuttle to Mrs. Cartwright. Then, struck with an idea, she carefully examined the seal of the envelope. That was where the smell seemed to be strongest.

"Mr. Swathmore," Griselda eventually announced. "Thank you for stopping by. Detectives, Mr. Swathmore is one of the senior partners at the law firm."

Carson entered the room in the worst suit he owned. Nancy figured the local Bayport theatre must have run out of costumes before they got to him.

"Could you please put that personal item back in the wastebasket?" Carson snapped at Nancy. "Unless you have a search warrant, of course."

"Let me handle this, girls," Nancy told her friends. She faced her father and made an exaggerated show of dropping the envelope back into the trash. "And now we just have a few questions for you, sir."

"I didn't realize I was under arrest," Carson said.

"Oh, you're free not to comply. But then it will look to law enforcement that you are not being cooperative, which puts you higher up on our list of suspects. And, if we feel suspicious enough to get a search warrant, I can assure you, our search will be most thorough." Nancy stared her father down. He glowered at her but took a seat.

"First question," Nancy said, enjoying the many pairs of eyes watching the two of them. "Why did you promote Melvin Tuttle to junior partner over a much more qualified and experienced employee?"

"Tuttle did a better job," Carson answered. "He was a prodigy. You can't base anything off those biased accusations from a former, resentful employee."

"So it wasn't that Tuttle had any blackmail on you. I've noticed that you tend to find trusting clients with zero business sense so you can do whatever you want to with their contracts and trust funds and they'll just assume you're doing your best."

"The answer to both slanderous accusations is an emphatic no. And now this interview is over until my attorney is present," Carson said testily.

"I can assure you, that is not in your best interest, sir. Next question." Nancy flipped a page in her notebook dramatically. "You have one senior partner who doesn't make any business decisions. So you really only have one other senior partner that you have to make decisions with. Any idea why Mr. Cartwright suddenly took a leave of absence three days ago?"

Carson glared at Nancy for a long moment. Then he threw his hands up in the air. "So maybe I decided that it was time to tell him that his sleazeball wife was having an affair with Mr. Tuttle."

"Hey," Griselda protested as Mrs. Cartwright.

"Three days before Mr. Tuttle was murdered," Nancy pointed out.

"I agree, the timeline does seem a bit suspicious. Sounds like Mr. Cartwright committed the murder, or his wife, or someone with a motive, unlike me." Carson got up and held the door open for them. "Out. I'll see you in court for this harassment."

Nancy figured that her father wouldn't actually throw them out if he had more information to give. So she maintained assertive eye contact with him as she slowly, confidently walked out the front door. Carson's hard expression appeared to melt as Nancy moved; Nancy realized just after she and the girls left that the look in her father's eyes had been pride.

Callie, Iola, and Vanessa nearly collapsed in giggles on Nancy's front lawn. "I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you and your dad role play courtroom dramas every night before bed," Vanessa laughed.

"We are well on our way to solving this case," Nancy said, and told them her theory.

Consulting with Sherlock was next on their to-do list. Callie swore as she saw the boys' team walking toward them. The two teams were alone on a residential street. "Look at Frank's expression," she said in an irate tone. "They're figuring out the mystery, too. We need to come up with a new way of distracting them. Hey, let's flash them. We have bras on anyway. Sherlock would have thought of the same idea, if he'd had the same assets that we do."

The girls quickly debated and all agreed that they would just pretend that they were about to flash the boys. "Hey, hotties," Vanessa called. That got the guys' attention, as Vanessa was usually more reserved.

The four girls gripped the bottoms of their shirts with both hands like they were about to pull them up. "Want to see these?" Iola called.

The guys' response was unexpected; only Joe and Biff appeared more intrigued than concerned. Nancy realized that Frank, Phil, and Tony were alarmed by the prospect of their female counterparts showing personal, intimate views of themselves like it wasn't special. Nancy thought it was sweet, and felt a little foolish for participating in this prank.

A long moment went by when no one moved. Tony's expression darkened and he gestured for the guys to come closer to him. After their brief huddle, the guys began to turn around and unbutton their pants.

"They're gonna moon us!" Callie cried out. "Look away and run, girls!"

Nancy immediately obeyed, and heard female laughter and slapping footsteps behind her. She stopped a block away and her three friends stopped with her. The boys hadn't followed.

Callie caught her breath quickly. "Sorry about that, guys. It was funnier in my head than it ended up being in real life. Those with boyfriends need to tell their guys that it was my idea and I apologize."

"They'll get over it, and we won't do it again," Nancy reassured her, and soon they were again focused on the mystery and headed back to Angel of the Sea Bed and Breakfast to interview Mr. Hardy.

"How are things with you and Phil, or shouldn't we ask?" Vanessa said to Iola as they walked.

"He says that he wants to focus on enjoying the three months we have left, and that it's my choice if we should take a break or stay together," Iola said glumly. "And he really thinks that's the gentleman-like thing to say, but he doesn't realize that it also makes him look like he doesn't care, like he doesn't want to fight for us."

Callie, Nancy, and Vanessa all jumped in at once with their opinions that Phil cared very deeply about Iola, just had some social awkwardness that made him easily misunderstood. Iola thanked them for their reassurance and said that the only decision she'd made so far was that, yes, she and Phil should enjoy the time they had before he left for Space Camp.

"Sherlock Holmes's time is very valuable," Mr. Hardy said in an irritable tone when the girls approached him in the parlor. "Make it quick."

There were no chairs close by so Nancy sat at his feet. The girls joined her. Mr. Hardy looked surprised but a bit pleased. Nancy figured that she could get the most information out of him by flattery than the intimidation she had needed with her father.

"Sherlock, we need help. Badly, and you're the only detective out of all these _stunads_ who can really point us in the right direction," Nancy said.

Mr. Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying not to laugh. "Ask away, my disciples."

"Can you give us a hint about the importance of the envelope in Mrs. Cartwright's wastebasket?" Callie asked.

"The seal," Nancy added.

"The lab said that there was no poison in what Mr. Tuttle was eating or drinking that morning, and yet there was a trace of a rare element in his body and on the lip of his tea cup," Mr. Hardy answered. "So how would he have ingested the element? I'd say it's pretty important who was overseeing that mailing project and knew what Mr. Tuttle would come in contact with."

"My coworker says that both the envelope and the insane pirate at the boat dock smell like lilacs," Iola commented.

"Quite a coincidence," Mr. Hardy said. "Although, considering how many battles and war stories that pirate has, I suppose it's possible that she would have brought home an uncommon element, am I right? I wrote some articles on various rare poisons. They're over on the coffee table, if you'd like to check them out," Mr. Hardy said, nodding his head across the room and settling back in his seat like the interview was over.

Nancy suddenly thought of something. "The door to Mr. Tuttle's office was closed. The secretaries couldn't see what was he was doing inside his office. Is there a chance that he was using" — she tried to remember the term—"recreational drugs with a rare element in them? Which recreational drugs can you die from? All of them?"

Mr. Hardy stilled. He gave Nancy a penetrating stare that she didn't entirely like. "Recreational drugs?" he said slowly. "What clues are there in this mystery that lead you to believe that Mr. Tuttle might have overdosed on recreational drugs, Nancy?"

"We're just exploring all angles," Nancy said quickly. Her real-life case must have affected how she was thinking about this Solicitous Solicitor case. "My team and I will read your excellent articles on the types of rare poisons."

It was just as she had suspected: there was an article on chinaberry, which smelled like lilacs and wasn't well known to London specialists. It had taken them less time to solve this mystery than had been estimated. It was a little past 3:00, and the girls gave the guys a triumphant look when they arrived a little bit later. They handed in their papers to Mrs. Hardy and, when the adults who had been interviewed that afternoon arrived at Angel by the Sea, all of the Sherlock Saturday participants assembled in the parlor for the final solution.

Sherlock and Lestrade had another dialogue of deductive reasoning to explain what had happened in this murder case. Mr. Tuttle had been blackmailing Mr. Swathmore about his corrupt business practices; Mr. Swathmore told Mr. Cartwright about his wife's affair with Mr. Tuttle to distract him and get full decision making power; Mr. Swathmore worked with his pirate friend to get a rare poison, chinaberry, from a distant land; Mr. Swathmore applied the poison to the seal of the envelopes on Saturday, and then gave them to Mr. Tuttle to use when he was supervising the process Saturday night; Mr. Tuttle finally finished the work with the contracts Sunday morning, licked and sealed them, and drank tea afterward, which spread the poison from his lips throughout his body. Along with the contracts, Mr. Tuttle had also mailed a personal letter, apologizing to Mrs. Cartwright for the scandal recently caused by their affair, using an envelope from the same stack that was provided by Mr. Swathmore; the lilac-smelling chinaberry poison on the envelope's seal matched the scent that was on the pirate who'd provided Mr. Swathmore with the poison. Therefore Chief Collig dramatically handcuffed first Carson, then Aunt Gertrude, and pulled them out of the room while they shouted their innocence and the group applauded.

The nine young people waited in excitement for Mrs. Hardy to speak.

"And so," Mrs. Hardy said, "both teams got all the questions right, so we have a tie!"

This announcement was met with groaning and complaints. The adults had wanted a tie and the youth had not. A few of the families decided to go out for an early dinner afterward and they all had a good time. Mrs. Hardy said that the bed and breakfast had confirmed their interest in working with her to try a Sherlock Holmes Saturday for adults; they would keep the mystery simple and see what the response was, add a few props, and get some local businesses involved. None of the couples broke off by themselves and Nancy was reminded of how much fun it was to hang out in groups, too, even with parents. Nancy also found Biff's little sister Mary to be quite adorable, and spent a good amount of time playing pen-and-paper table games with her.

Biff beckoned Nancy aside when he, his mom, and sister were getting ready to leave. "I know it was you who got me invited to this thing, Nancy," he said. "And thank you. I had a great time and so did my family."

Nancy smiled up at him. "Good. I'm glad you came and your mom played a part. And Mary is so, so cute."

"Crazy, how you probably wouldn't have this group of friends if you hadn't gone roller skating, and neither would I if I hadn't been in detention with you," Biff mused. "This is a good group of people right here and we're lucky that they're welcoming two newcomers like you and me. I've lived in Bayport my whole life, but never had a reason to hang out with them until you got me involved."

"Yes, they're a very good group of people, and you can feel comfortable to act like yourself around them," Nancy answered. She thought of the prescription script she'd found in Michael's truck the previous night. "Hey, Biff," she said in a lower voice, "when you saw Coach Hafetz hand the piece of paper to Michael in the gym, and then something else that was hidden in his fist…could the second item have been another small, folded up piece of paper?"

"Sure," Biff said. "That would make more sense than a lot of other things, because it's so small and Coach didn't have a big fist, you know? Why, what did you find?"

"I'll try to stop by your apartment sometime tomorrow and bring you up to speed," Nancy said to him.

It had been a long day and the friends and parents began to trickle away to their homes. Tony wanted to walk Nancy home and she declined, choosing to ride with her dad and Griselda. Nancy realized on the way home, guiltily, that she felt relieved that she hadn't spent time alone with Tony that day. The secrets she was keeping from him were beginning to interfere with their relationship.

Nancy had an unexpected additional hour of excitement when her dad and Griselda dished three bowls of ice cream and asked Nancy to sit in the living room with them. Her dad, with occasional comments by Griselda, told her just how proud he'd been of her interrogation techniques that afternoon: how she'd directed the conversation, kept the suspect talking, and kept an assertive yet not intimidating attitude. Then he gave her some suggestions on how to make further improvements, and offered some education on what would have been admissible and inadmissible in court. Nancy eagerly asked clarifying questions and, when Griselda debated a point with her dad, Nancy joined in the conversation and felt like her parents respected her comments like an adult's.

Later, in her pajamas, Nancy finally completed the dreaded task that she'd been procrastinating for twenty-four hours. She emailed Joe, asking if she could come over the next day to give an update about the mystery that she wanted him to be the first to hear about. He responded affirmatively, and told her to arrive at 9:00 the next morning. They had to research the name and purpose of the medication that had been prescribed for Michael.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Thank you for the reads and reviews! Yes, Cherylann, Angel of the Sea is in Cape May, NJ, which I believe is part of the network of bed and breakfasts that host Sherlock Saturdays twice a year! Some people were disappointed by the tie of the last chapter; I felt like the Sherlock Saturday mystery was simple enough that both the boys and girls would solve it (although maybe it just seemed easy to me because I already knew the solution?). What in heck are Michael and the teachers up to? JB_

"Hi, Nancy," Joe said when he answered his front door Sunday morning. He was still in pajamas, spiky blonde hair every which way.

"Did I wake you up?" Nancy asked.

"I did tell you 9:00," Joe said. "Come on up."

"Basement," his mother said as she appeared on the stairs.

Joe turned to her. "You think I'm going to make a move on my best friend's girlfriend in my bedroom?"

"Basement," his mother repeated. "Good morning, Nancy. Joe, are you going to ask your guest if she'd like any refreshments?"

"Um," Joe said, "Nancy, did you want to tell my mom if you needed any refreshments?"

Mrs. Hardy rolled her eyes in hopelessness. Nancy greeted her, thanked her again for the great time she'd had at Sherlock Saturday yesterday, and explained that she'd already eaten.

"Some lousy detectives we are," Nancy commented when the basement door was shut and Joe was firing up the computer. "Now we have a witness. What do we do if your mom mentions to Tony later that we were down here together?"

"I don't see any reason why she would," Joe said. "She'll assume nothing's going on because we're not trying to hide anything." He gestured to a chair across the room that Nancy could pull over for herself. Nancy complied while silently agreeing with Mrs. Hardy's assessment of her son's manners.

"Tony thinks I'm at church right now," Nancy said. "My dad gave me today off because he took off last Sunday. Is Tony going to mass?"

"His grandmother decided that it's warm enough today to have their last Prito family picnic of the year," Joe said. "He said he was going over there this morning to help prep the food, and then of course it's an all-afternoon event. So we could sit here for eight hours if we wanted to. Tell me what happened at the game on Friday, every detail, and then show me what you have."

Nancy paused. "Should we get Frank?"

"Frank's not here, probably out for a run. We'll start the research now, then bring him up to speed when he gets home."

Nancy started from the beginning, but it wasn't a long story: how she'd asked Tony to buy her a soda at the football game, then snuck into Michael's truck, found a written prescription, taken a picture of it with her phone, and snuck back to the game via the most poorly illuminated path. Nancy could tell that Joe was fully focused on her, interrupting only to ask a couple of clarifying questions, and Nancy found herself thinking that Joe might turn out to be a very good detective.

"You've got quite a pair of balls, Nancy," Joe commented when she had finished. "Searching Michael's truck right out in the open. We have to remember that anybody at all could have seen you do it and not said anything. To you, at least. They could have told someone else."

"I told Biff about the prescription. He said a small, folded blue prescription slip could definitely have been what Coach was delivering to Michael that day in the gym. It would make sense to hand Michael a prescription and a doctor's phone number at the same time, especially since Dr. Jansen Young is the doctor who wrote the prescription." Nancy pulled up the image on her phone and showed it to him.

Joe's features went slack. "Oh, no. This is not good, Nancy," he said. "I recognize that medication from a horrifying video they made us watch in middle school, and it's nothing good. This mystery just got real."

"What is it?" Nancy asked, and Joe responded by typing in the name on the computer's search engine. He clicked the icon to hear the pronunciation.

"Methadone," Joe repeated. He read from the website. "Commonly used to treat opiate addictions, especially to the drug heroin. Methadone acts on the same opioid receptors as morphine and heroin to stabilize patients and minimalize withdrawal symptoms."

Nancy had no idea what Joe had just said, so she waited and hoped that he would explain himself without her having to ask. All she knew about drugs was what her father had described to her many times: that if she ever tried any illegal drug, even once, her entire life would be ruined and she would never again have one minute of happiness.

"It's like," Joe began to explain, his voice shaking, "if you have an addiction to sugar, and you have to eat a hundred pounds of it a day, you can take a daily pill instead that's only worth fifteen pounds of sugar. So you're not completely cured, there's still sugar in your system, but at least you can start having a more normal life."

Nancy frowned. "That makes no sense. People who are on drugs need to get off drugs."

"Nancy," Joe said, "do you realize what I'm telling you? It looks like Michael has been using heroin. Heroin is one of the worst, most dangerous drugs out there, it kills people all the time, and it's one of the hardest habits to stop."

Nancy was stunned into silence. She felt a lump form in the back of her throat as she thought of what this would do to Tony. She thought that only a week and a half ago, it had looked like Michael had been enjoying himself in a college class and might have been thinking about enrolling. She hoped that she was misunderstanding the concepts and asked Joe repeated clarifying questions until Joe cut her off.

"You understand me, Nancy. You're stalling," Joe said. "So where do we go from here? I feel bad to even tell Frank and Biff about this, and then they have to live with it just like we do, but maybe there's a different explanation that we can all figure out together. Until we know more, I definitely don't think we should tell—"

"Joe!" Mrs. Hardy called as the basement door opened. "Tony!"

Joe and Nancy heard rapid footsteps as the door closed. Tony appeared around the staircase in seconds.

Joe and Nancy's reactions were so poorly timed that the situation would have been comical under other circumstances. Nancy exited out of her phone pictures as Joe exited out of the methadone website.

Tony slowly approached. "You two played me," he said. "_I've_ been the third wheel all along."

"Um," Nancy said.

"Tony, man, it's nothing like _that_," Joe said uncertainly. Tony stopped walking when he stood directly in front of Joe.

"I know that it's nothing like _that_," Tony said to him, with a spark in his eyes that Nancy didn't like at all. "My girl doesn't cheat. But Nancy told me she was going to church this morning, so you can see why I'm surprised that she's sitting here with you right now. Your phone is off and so I came to invite you to my family's picnic today. You both look guilty as all hell so don't pretend that this is anything good. What are you hiding from me? What was on the phone and what was on the computer?"

Nancy turned to Joe. Later she couldn't believe that she had said something so stupid. "But we promised Frank and Biff that we'd vote on it before we told him," she said helplessly.

"Oh, of course. My girlfriend needs Biff Hooper's permission to speak to me." Tony grasped Joe's open backpack next to the computer and roughly upended its contents against the wall. Nancy flinched; the movement hadn't hurt anyone, just made a very big mess and a very loud, startling noise.

"Knock it off, douchebag," Joe snapped, his own temper flaring. "You're in my house and Nancy is sitting right here. Give us one second to think."

"You want me to give you time to think up a good lie, asshole? Nope. I'll clean up your basement when I think you've told me the truth." Tony sprinkled the contents of the trash can in a semicircle around Joe's chair.

Nancy tuned out Joe and Tony's argument as she realized that she had only met Tony less than six weeks ago; and, while she had seen a tender side of him that no one else had, she had also never fully seen a darker side of him that everyone else had. Frank's words returned to her from last month: _Tony went through a mild destruction of property phase a couple of years ago…he is not tame, Nancy._ She finally understood why Michael kept a tight leash on his little brother.

Tony began to gather the cushions from the furniture and throw them around the room. One of them knocked over the box of video games, scattering them with a noisy clatter.

"Stop it!" Nancy cried out. "You're scaring me!"

That stopped him. Tony lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. "I can't believe both of you would keep secrets from me," he said, sounding hurt and defeated. "Please tell me what's going on."

The door to the basement opened. "Joseph!" Mrs. Hardy called.

Joe held up an urgent finger to Nancy and Tony, signaling them to be quiet. "We're fine, Mom. Sorry, we'll clean it up," he shouted.

"Yes, you will. I've told you a million times. Take the roughhousing outside." The door closed.

Joe exhaled and looked at Tony. "If she'd walked down the stairs and seen this mess, you might never have been allowed in our house again."

Tony apologized to each of them. He began to clean up the basement by himself while Joe whispered with Nancy. They both agreed that the best course of action was to tell Tony everything, even without asking Frank and Biff about it first. There had been nothing but papers in the trash can so the only time-consuming part of Tony's clean up was getting Joe's assignments back in the correct folders in his backpack. Then the three of them sat on the couch, Tony in the middle.

Nancy's heart rate had returned to normal. Tony once again looked like the boy she liked, not an angry stranger. She took his hand. "I started this and I dragged everyone into it," she said. "So it's my job to tell this to you. Joe will help me out if I forget anything. I've already told you everything about the mystery up until…Michael got involved."

Tony frowned at her, his eyes widening.

Nancy told him everything that had happened since then: Michael's meeting with Coach Hafetz in the school gym the Friday before last, when Biff had seen Michael receive the script and the doctor's phone number; Nancy finding the script in the glove box of Michael's truck on Friday night; yesterday, when Iola had told her at the cemetery that Coach Hafetz's sister had died of a drug overdose; and, finally, she showed him the picture of Michael's script for methadone on her phone.

Tony had said nothing throughout Nancy's explanation, a variety of emotions crossing his face. He looked at the floor and appeared to be processing this information for a long moment after she'd finished speaking. "So it looks like Michael has been doing drugs," he said. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, and buried his hands in his hair. He swore softly. "All those lectures he gave me. That hypocrite. I hate him."

Nancy looked over Tony's back at Joe and gave him a questioning look. Joe shook his head, conveying his opinion that he didn't think Tony would have another outburst. Nancy began rubbing Tony's back in gentle circles.

Tony accepted the backrub for a minute. Then he leaned back on the couch and reached for Nancy. Nancy wrapped her arms around him and held him.

Joe waited a respectable amount of time before speaking. "Tony," he said. "Out of the five people who know about this, you're the most valuable out of all of us. If we're going to get this thing solved, you know Michael the best and you have the most opportunity to keep an eye on him. He might need help. Or we could go to an adult. Or we can forget about this while we still can. He's your brother so it's your decision."

Tony disentangled himself from Nancy and sat up straight. He blinked a few times and rubbed one eye. "No adults," he said. "Drugs are illegal and I don't want him in jail. And there's no way I can forget about it. I'm sorry again for throwing things, guys. I can see why you kept this from me. I mean, what can we do about it if he's on drugs?"

"Let's start by brainstorming the more pleasant theories, the ones where Michael isn't on drugs and our teachers aren't part of an underground prescription drug-dealing ring," Joe said. He returned to the computer to resume his internet search and Tony and Nancy followed him.

"Maybe the prescription is for someone who can't afford it, so Michael is helping out by making his health insurance pay for it," Nancy suggested.

Tony shook his head. He looked tired and unhappy but holding it together. "Nobody in my family has insurance," he said. "We don't go to the doctor much and we pay cash when we do."

"I do think there's got to be a chance that Michael is getting the script for someone else," Joe said.

"But then why would the script be in his name?" Tony asked. "How many rides has he given each of you? Michael works, helps our family, and tries to see Polly once in a while. That is all he does and that is who he is. Although it looks like maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did. But I do know that if anybody in our family needed medication—hell, if a perfect stranger needed medication—Michael would drive them to that doctor an hour and a half away and wait for them for six hours to drive them back."

"Blackmail? Somebody wants Michael to get them methadone and doesn't…want to go to the doctor themselves or something? Or doesn't really need methadone but wants to get high off it?" Joe said, but none of them were convinced. Joe clicked on a few articles and the general consensus was that, if a person wanted to get high, they would probably choose a different drug than methadone.

"Joe—Joe, scroll down," Nancy said, peering at the methadone article. "Guys, it says that methadone is also a very powerful painkiller, prescribed for people in extreme pain. Michael is in extreme pain!" Nancy said happily.

Tony gave Nancy a half-smile. "Thanks for trying, Nancy, but I think we would be able to tell if Michael were in extreme pain. Plus he would go to a doctor's office like a normal person, and he would tell anyone else in pain to go see a doctor, too. But, again, I feel like my opinions on him are worth nothing because I never would have believed he would be caught up in anything like this."

"You've got to trust your gut instinct," Joe told him. He clicked on a few links. "Don't start second-guessing yourself. Oh, and good news—methadone is an eighty-year-old drug so it's pretty cheap. The cost of a daily dose is enough to be annoying to someone without much money, but if Michael and our teachers were dealing drugs, I think they would choose a drug that's a lot more expensive than this one."

"I kind of wish he were dealing drugs instead of doing them," Tony said quietly. Then, more vehemently, "I mean, Michael? _Michael?_ I've lived with him my whole life! Does he look like he's on drugs to either of you?"

They googled "can you hide it from other people if you are high." They had to revise their search and choose more specific words, but they eventually clicked on enough links to learn that, yes, unfortunately, some experienced users are excellent at acting normally when they are high.

"But he works construction all day, and then makes pizzas at night. And doesn't slice himself up on anything. People who are on drugs can't work," Nancy said.

They googled "can you still go to work and have a job if you are on drugs." They found a lot of legal advice about prescription drugs that they had to sift through, but finally found even more disappointing articles; yes, there was such a thing called a "high functioning substance use disorder," which meant that some people who were on drugs still held down jobs. They were either under the influence at work and could make it through the day anyway, or started their drug habit immediately after their work shift.

The basement door opened and closed. "Hi, you guys," Frank said as he came down the stairs, rounding the corner and towel drying his hair.

Tony, Joe, and Nancy all greeted Frank in joyous tones. Frank would figure this out for them.

Frank gave them all suspicious looks as he pulled up a chair to the computer. "Somehow I don't like it that you're all so happy to see me," he said.

Joe quickly brought Frank up to speed; for a moment, both brothers were entirely focused on each other, Frank seeming to finish Joe's sentences and Joe anticipating Frank's questions. Nancy couldn't believe that she hadn't until this moment picked up on just how strong Frank and Joe's relationship was and how in tune they were with each other. She felt a little sorry for the criminals that the two brothers would catch.

When Frank learned of Michael's methadone script, he looked sharply at Tony, who was staring at the floor. Frank clapped Tony once on the shoulder, a gesture of support, and then began to slowly pace. "I think you guys started with good questions, trying out different theories on how Michael is involved. And now it's time to look into how everyone is involved. Coach Hafetz is forever lecturing us about drugs. He does random urine tests on the football team all the time. That solves the mystery of why the adults wouldn't speak to us about Sophie Conners' death, by the way: death by drug overdose is considered shameful, and the adults think we're too young to hear about it. I agree with Callie's assessment, that the 'never again' Coach was saying at his sister's gravesite was a promise to help other people who had her same problem. Most people on methadone are going to a clinic every day, so why wouldn't Michael? Coach must have a very good relationship with this Dr. Young—who isn't even really qualified to prescribe methadone—to get a script for a twenty day supply."

"I've always wondered how Miss Swain is involved," Joe said. "Why was Coach meeting with her, and then suddenly meeting with Michael instead? The only way that Miss Swain knows Michael is from the flirting at Mr. Pizza at the end of summer, right?"

"And then Miss Swain got a new boyfriend recently," Nancy remembered. "Tony, have you seen her in Mr. Pizza since she got her new boyfriend?"

Tony considered this. "No. Although of course I'm not there most of the time. And so, what, you guys are thinking that Miss Swain was getting Michael's methadone for him and then stopped because she got a new boyfriend?"

That was in fact what Nancy had been thinking, although she didn't feel happy about it.

"What does an average day look like for Michael?" Nancy asked, in part to distract Tony.

"These days he's not usually home when I wake up," Tony said. "Sometimes he comes back to the house in time to drive me to school, and if he's not there by a certain time, I just walk to Joe's. I never ask Michael where he is because I learned a long time ago that he doesn't like it. He and my dad drive separately to whatever construction site they're doing that day. He heads over to Mr. Pizza for the lunch rush, goes back to construction, then back to Mr. Pizza for the dinner rush, and finally gets done maybe around eight. My parents don't usually give him a schedule because he's good at figuring out where he's most needed. If he wants a few hours off, he lets them know. Weekends are more flexible but as you guys know, my family doesn't really take much time off work. Michael hasn't been at home in the evening much since school started, really, and I'd assumed he was with Polly."

Frank sighed. "But she has night classes some days of the week. We could ask Iola if Polly has been home, but there are already five of us who know about this. She's going to want to know why we care all of a sudden and we really need to keep this mystery tight if we don't want it getting out."

They re-affirmed their commitment never to let the mystery move beyond Frank, Joe, Nancy, Tony, and Biff. Tony said that he didn't want to confront Michael about anything yet, as it might make the situation worse, and they agreed to continue to monitor the situation for now.

Frank crouched in front of Tony's chair. "And now," he said, "let's review all the positives about this case."

Tony raised his eyebrows, looking downward at him.

"Having a script for methadone is perfectly legal," Frank said, speaking kindly and never breaking eye contact with Tony. "Michael hadn't filled the script at the pharmacy as of Friday night, two weeks after he got it, so he doesn't actually have the methadone and there could still be a logical explanation. And—if it's the worst case scenario, and Michael does have an addiction—the fact that he has a methadone script means that he's trying to get off heroin."

Frank's words had an effect. Tony's shoulders lifted and he looked more hopeful.

Nancy realized with a jolt how mesmerized she had been by Frank's talk. He had such a powerful, soothing bedside manner; she knew that one day he would be great at comforting survivors and gently encouraging hysterical people to stay focused; and, of course, playing the good cop to Joe's bad cop. She felt some of her old attraction to Frank return and she stubbornly ignored it.

Tony headed over to his grandmother's quite late to help prepare for the picnic. Nancy headed over to Biff's to update him about the case.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Infinite thanks to my faithful reviewers, as always, and any lurking readers! This story is winding down; I anticipate either 4 or 5 chapters left after this one. I'm not going to make my end of June deadline because, uh, the last couple of chapters aren't written yet? I never wrote the ending during my rough draft because it was too painful to say goodbye to these characters! Hope everyone gets some relaxation in today before the start of another week! JB_

Mrs. Hooper seemed quite intrigued and pleased when Nancy arrived at their apartment door. Nancy inferred that Biff didn't have many visitors, especially female, which struck her as unusual; Biff was a muscular football player and not hard to look at. Biff's five-year-old sister, Mary, remembered playing with Nancy at Sherlock Saturday the previous night, and begged Nancy to play dress-up with her. Biff was at a convenience store picking up a few supplies.

Nancy looked questioningly at Mrs. Hooper, who nodded her approval while smirking slightly. To Nancy's surprise, Mary led her into her brother's closet, not her mother's, pulling up his desk chair so she could reach Biff's hanging shirts.

"Biffie gets very mad at me when he catches me wearing his shirts," Mary said conspiratorially to Nancy. "Here. You wear his My Little Pony shirt, and I'll wear his football shirt."

Nancy complied, pulling the shirt on over her turtleneck. Biff's football jersey almost reached Mary's ankles. Mary had soft, straight brown hair and an angelic face, making the contrast all the more startling when she contorted her face into a snarl.

"This is what the boys have to do to their faces to get ready to play football," Mary explained to Nancy, and made another fierce face with a matching bicep flex.

They heard the front door open and the rustle of plastic bags dropped off in the kitchen. "Biff! Nancy's here, but don't go in your bedroom," his mom called loudly.

"Why are you trying to keep me out of my bedroom, Mom?" Biff responded. "If Mary's going through my clothes again, I'm going to get really mad." Nancy perceived that this was an ongoing game that the family played.

Biff banged his bedroom door open. Mary screamed and jumped up and down on the chair in happiness, then hopped down and ran past Biff and out of his bedroom. Biff pretended to try to grab her and miss, then chased her around the apartment. Nancy came out and laughed as Biff caught Mary and began to tickle her on the couch.

"You're so good with her," Mrs. Hooper said to Nancy. "I have to put Mary in after-school daycare during Biff's football and baseball seasons. I just can't ask him to give up his sports, even with how expensive daycare is. Laura Hardy called me last night and gave me a glowing recommendation about you and an idea that…well, if you can be here by the time Mary's kindergarten bus drops her off at 3:45 and stay until I get home at 6:00, it would be a big help. I could pay you…" Mrs. Hooper named a figure that Nancy suspected wasn't very much in adult terms but seemed like a gold mine to her.

Nancy's eyes lit up. She couldn't believe that her first job would be something as fun as babysitting Mary Hooper. "I'd love to! Just let me ask my parents."

"They already said it would be okay, starting next week," Mrs. Hooper said, sounding relieved, and Nancy stopped herself just in time from emitting a very immature shriek of bliss. She was an _employee_ now, and she was also grateful that her parents had prevented the awkward situation of having to explain to Mrs. Hooper that she had to do community service every afternoon this week.

Mary finally lay limp on the couch, exhausted from the tickling, and Nancy excitedly told Biff the good news. Mrs. Hooper looked between Biff and Nancy with a knowing smile.

"Thanks for helping us out, Nancy. And, Mom, Nancy is Tony Prito's girlfriend," Biff said, standing up. "The kid whose family owns the pizzeria. He was at Sherlock Saturday with us yesterday."

Mrs. Hooper's demeanor changed; she gave Nancy a guarded, doubtful look and said that she would make some Kraft macaroni and bring it to them when it was done. Nancy felt the changed mood and some of her excitement deflated.

"I had to end those speculations before they started," Biff said after he closed his bedroom door. He sat in his desk chair and, not seeing another chair, Nancy sat on his bed. Nancy wasn't too surprised that they were allowed in Biff's room by themselves. The apartment was small and only had an open kitchen and living room, Biff's bedroom on one side, and a bedroom on the other side that his mom and sister shared. Biff's bedroom was quite neat and organized.

Nancy couldn't resist commenting. "Seriously, Biff?" She pointed to the pink, glittery My Little Pony shirt she was wearing.

Biff grinned. "When my mom buys Mary nightshirts, she gives them to me and we hang them up in my closet. It gives Mary that extra thrill to feel like she's wearing _my_ shirts." The affection in Biff's voice reminded Nancy that she would have to carefully watch out for Mary's safety, in addition to providing an emotional bond and activities; Biff wouldn't be at all happy with her if an accident befell his little sister.

Nancy brought him up to date on the case and the fact that Tony now knew everything.

Biff gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "And so, unfortunately, we have to consider that this mystery might be solved," Biff said. "Remember Coach's second note to Miss Swain, the one where he said they need a 'permanent solution?' If Miss Swain was getting Michael's methadone for him as a temporary solution, convincing Coach to ask his doctor friend to write the methadone prescriptions, the 'permanent solution' might have been Coach insisting that Michael go to treatment. Maybe that's why Coach was unhappy with Michael that day in the gym, because Michael wants the pills without the hard work of the therapy. And, if Michael hasn't filled the script yet, he might not have even decided if he wants to get better or not. Was Michael Miss Swain's favorite student or something, or are we really thinking that they were having an affair?"

"I can't remember if I told you that a couple of weeks ago Michael was in his truck with someone on a deserted road just outside of town," Nancy told him. "He got out of his truck before Tony and I could get closer and he was buckling his belt. He could have been with Polly or Miss Swain or anybody, I guess."

Biff gave her a cautious look. "Or he might not have been with anybody. He always wears short sleeved shirts, so you guys might have been interrupting him just before…Nancy, you do know that heroin isn't the kind of drug you swallow, right?"

"What? Then how do you take it?" Nancy asked. Biff told her and she thought she'd be sick.

"It makes sense that he'd choose an area of his body that would hide the marks. But this also means that there's some small chance that Michael might not be on drugs," Biff added. "Tony must see Michael coming out of the shower or something, since he lives with him, and he would have noticed if there were a bunch of punctures." They had to abruptly pause their conversation when Mrs. Hooper brought them each a plate of macaroni and cheese and they thanked her. Nancy called her parents to let them know that she would be out for the afternoon as well and would come home before it got dark.

They did more research on substance use disorders on Biff's computer. Nancy saw something called a Wellness and Recovery Action Plan, which included a daily maintenance plan, listing and preparing for triggers, and creating an early warning signs plan to prevent a full-on crisis or relapse. Nancy agreed with her father's assessment; it must be much easier never to try drugs at all.

"This stuff is depressing," Nancy said gloomily.

"So exactly how many more clues are we searching for before we do something about this?" Biff asked. "We need to either confront Michael or go to an adult. Imagine how terrible we're all going to feel if Michael overdoses, or if he's high when he's driving somebody and people die in an accident, or if he's high while working construction and makes a huge mistake so half the crew gets hurt. Promise me you're not going to let him drive you anywhere until we figure this out, Nancy."

"Okay," Nancy said, distracted by the horrifying things he'd just said. "But Tony said Michael would go to jail if we told anybody, because drugs are illegal…"

"Do we want him in jail or dead?" Biff asked. "And I don't like the idea of Tony investigating his own brother, either. Are you guys sure he's mentally stable enough to do it?"

Nancy frowned. "He's as mentally stable as any of us are. And, since we're talking about it, was I imagining it or did your mom get weird when you mentioned that I'm dating Tony?"

"Tony had a reputation," Biff said. "He used to wreck abandoned properties when he got mad. He used to drink. Maybe he still does."

"_Drink?"_ Nancy's queasiness was turning into a full stomachache.

"Hey," Biff said, peering at her. "Sorry. I assumed this wouldn't entirely be news to you. When you got together with him right away, I figured that you like bad boys."

"I know he has a temper, I've seen it more than once, but I did not know about the drinking," Nancy said with a shaky voice. "We just read that substance problems run in families. So if Michael has a problem, doesn't that mean that my boyfriend is—" she checked Biff's computer screen to find the terminology—"at higher risk?"

"I don't know. I'm not the expert on him or drug problems," Biff answered. "Tony and I don't have a problem with each other, but we aren't friends, either. I don't think we ever had a full conversation before Sherlock Saturday yesterday. What temper have you seen, besides him hitting Frank?"

"I might not have mentioned that…he started trashing Joe's basement this morning when he realized Joe and I had been keeping secrets from him," Nancy mumbled.

"What?" Biff rolled his chair toward her. "Are you afraid of him?"

"No," Nancy said. "But I don't like it when he does those things."

"If you're scared of him at all, or what he does, or if it even makes you uncomfortable, then dump him, Nancy. And he's not going to change for you," Biff said, sounding more vehement the more he spoke. "My mom wasted years with that hope. There would be weeks straight when everything was great, my dad would promise that he'd never hit her again, and then the same thing would happen, and it got worse and worse. He finally left her when she was pregnant with my sister, and it was the most loving thing he ever did for us. He wouldn't even give her a divorce, just so she can never fully move on from him. I'd like to see my dad try to come around here again, now that I'm this big."

Nancy stared at Biff in shock. He was the class clown; she was horrified that such things happened to people she knew, people who lived in normal towns. Somehow she'd thought that her career would be spent commuting to other neighborhoods to fight evil. "I'm sorry," she finally remembered to stammer.

"I'm not messed up from it, if that's what you're thinking, and don't start treating me like I'm messed up," Biff said. "And I'm never going to act like that. I can't stop Tony from doing anything to you, but if he does, I will take care of it like I would take care of anybody in school hitting a girl. I know that I'm supposed to be afraid that Tony knows some kind of kung fu, but being a foot taller than him and a lot heavier has got to count for something."

Nancy found that she couldn't return to concentrating on the case. She apologized again for what had happened in Biff's family, and Biff waved his hand to cut her off. "I need to go," Nancy said. "I won't treat you like you're messed up, and you won't treat me like a battered woman. I appreciate your warnings, but Tony isn't like that. Deal?"

Biff nodded and Nancy gave his T-Shirt back. Mary had fallen asleep on the couch. Nancy thanked Mrs. Hooper for lunch on her way out, hoping that the babysitting arrangement was still on.

Ndhb

Nancy's day had been full of miserable surprises: first finding out about Michael's potential drug problem, then witnessing Tony's outburst, Biff revealing his family's past, and now learning about Tony's drinking. Nancy wondered if she knew Tony at all.

She found that she couldn't go home yet; she wanted to talk to someone about it. And, aside from Tony's family, the person who knew him the best was his best friend. She found herself walking to Joe's house.

Nancy rang the Hardys' doorbell for the second time that day. Frank answered.

"Um, can I talk to Joe?" Nancy asked, suddenly feeling shy.

"He joined Tony at his family's picnic. He won't be back for a while." Frank looked closely at Nancy. "You look upset. Can I help?"

Nancy thought about it. She didn't know how anyone could help.

"Let's go on a walk," Frank said. He grabbed his coat and called to his mom that he was going out.

Frank walked next to her, waiting for her to speak first. He'd made the right choice, as always; she found that she could open up easier since she wasn't looking at him. "Biff just told me that Tony used to drink," Nancy said.

Frank surprised her by laughing.

"It's not funny," Nancy said. "And Biff better not have been joking with me."

"Did you also hear that story that Tony has slept with hundreds of girls?" Frank asked her.

"And the reports on the girls' bathroom stall? Yes," Nancy said, wondering where he was going with this.

"And was it true?" Frank asked.

"No."

"Just like Tony exaggerated the stories about his drinking. You've been good for his self-esteem, Nancy. Sometimes, when people brag too much, they're trying to convince themselves more than anyone else." Frank put his hands in his pockets. They were heading toward the shore and the wind chill was biting.

"Exaggerated? So he _was_ drinking," Nancy said. "Or is."

"It's a cultural thing," Frank explained. "In Italian families—in a lot of cultures—the kids are given weak wine or mild alcohol with some of their meals. Just to get used to the taste, so it's not a big deal."

"Oh my god," Nancy said, not feeling any better. "But it is a big deal. I can't believe this."

"Have you thought yet what you're going to do on your twenty-first birthday?" Frank asked her.

"Bess and I talked about it once," Nancy said. "We're going to try it. But we'll both lock ourselves in my bedroom to make sure that nobody gets hurt."

"Precisely," Frank responded. "A lot of people go on a bender on their twenty-first birthday, and alcohol is this big, mysterious, exciting thing, so they go overboard when they're old enough. Other cultures, and other countries with lower drinking ages, want the kids to see alcohol as a normal part of life, to be used moderately. Then maybe they won't drink to excess as adults. I'm freezing, Nancy. Can we head in the arcade?"

Nancy agreed. Frank bought a small soda with two straws and they sat at a table. There was almost no one there. The arcade would be closing for the winter at the end of October.

"So can you sort of see both points of view?" Frank asked as they sat down.

"I understand the theories, at least," Nancy said pensively. "My dad wouldn't like hearing this at all."

"I tend to agree with a higher minimum age, too," Frank said. "And so. When Tony went through his tough time, back in seventh grade, he took a selfie of himself drinking wine and started showing it around. Just so we all knew that he was the manliest man among us."

Nancy rolled her eyes.

"Exactly," Frank said. "He got in big trouble with his family because all of them could have gotten in trouble for his underage drinking. As far as I know, they've never allowed him to have a drink again. I don't think he's ever been drunk. You'll have to ask him."

"Well, your explanation sure helps, at least." Nancy felt a bit more relieved. She thought of a remark Callie had made weeks ago. "Do you really have a certificate in peer mediation?"

Frank smiled.

"Nice," Nancy said, returning his smile. "But…what else did Tony do back in seventh grade?"

Frank shrugged. "There was a fence on an abandoned property that he kicked to shreds. He broke so many bottles against the side of the Tower Mansion that Chief Collig drove him out there and made him clean them up. He pulled some disappearing acts, not for attention exactly, but just to get energy out…eventually his family increased his karate practices, started him at the construction company, and found a schedule that worked out. He gets bored easily, too."

"What was making him so angry?" Nancy asked.

"Joe and I both think it was just hard for him to grow up. I think he would have told Joe if something major had happened. Tony feels emotions very deeply. He acts out when his feelings are hurt, and at that time he was taking everything as an insult. Maybe it was a hormonal thing, too. I was glad when he seemed to get balanced once more." Frank leaned forward onto his elbows.

"And now he's getting off balance again." Nancy looked down at the table. She vaguely heard the beeping sound effects of a few little kids playing arcade games. "Tony disappeared after I sent him an email. Then I made him late for a shift at work and he got in trouble. He hurt you because he was mad about my novel. He got in trouble with Michael and wrecked your basement because of a mystery that I dragged everyone into."

"Yeah, Joe told me about what happened this morning," Frank said quietly.

"Biff and I learned today that a 'trigger' is a person, place, or thing that messes somebody up." Nancy felt a lump in her throat at the prospect of splitting up with Tony. "Am I a trigger for Tony?"

"No," Frank said immediately. "You're a big soft spot for him. Not that you can control him, or he would completely change for you."

"Biff said that angry people make promises and things are good for a while, but then the hitting only gets worse," Nancy said. "Tony really beat you up that day."

"I don't think he would have done that if he and I hadn't been standing there with karate gear on, right after he read your novel and thought that you and I were having an emotional affair. I don't mean to make excuses for him, but I do think that day was a perfect storm of unfortunate events and he sincerely regrets what he did and would make more of an effort to control himself in the future. And now I'm more concerned by how Biff Hooper knows the cycle of violence." Frank gave her a meaningful look.

Nancy didn't answer. The arcade door opened and they ignored the fresh noise, totally focused on their conversation.

Frank sighed. "So are you telling me that you think Tony is going to get more violent? I know him very well and I'd bet my life that he'd never hit a girl, but he will have more angry episodes once in a while. I'm sorry that Biff went through whatever he did, but he doesn't know Tony. Give your new friends a little more credit. Don't you think we would have warned you if we thought Tony was dangerous, especially the girls? But if you're afraid of him, then get rid of him. Don't try to save him."

"I'm not afraid of him, and I really do mean that," Nancy said sincerely. She took a swallow of their soda for a long moment to gather her thoughts. "But I did not grow up like this. Sparring, hitting, fighting, loud noises, boys, arguments, throwing things, none of it. Hannah was getting older and we had to be sensitive to her, walking carefully, speaking slowly. My dad and I never even raised our voices when we fought. I'm not used to Tony's kind of anger and I don't like it."

"He's really going to be horrified," Frank commented. "When you tell him every single word you just told me."

"But now with Michael—" Nancy began.

"You cannot go easy on him because of whatever's going on with Michael," Frank interrupted, his voice firm. "If Michael really does have a problem, then Tony is going to have to learn very quickly how to control himself through bad feelings and bad news. I'm serious, Nancy."

If he'd tried to force her to promise him, she might have resisted; however, he'd used the right combination of speaking assertively, yet leaving the choice up to her. Nancy took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll talk to him," she said, and she realized that she felt much better. "Thank you so much, Frank. You dropped everything and came out in this cold to reassure me that I'm not crazy and I really do know Tony. You let me talk it out and you gave great advice. Now I'll just have to work on getting a little more used to the unpleasant side of life or I won't have the skills to be a good detective."

Frank grinned at her. "Somehow I think you'll be a great detective."

Nancy smiled in return.

A sudden flash blinded them. There was rough laughter and the sound of exiting teenagers before Nancy could see again. A few moments later, Frank got a text from Callie, simply stating _any reason why these ignorant people from school are sending me this picture?_ It was a quite recent picture of Frank and Nancy at the arcade table, smiling intimately at each other with a soda and two straws between them. They very much looked like they were on a date.

Nancy folded her arms on the table and lowered her head onto them. She felt like drama had been following her wherever she went.

"Hey," Frank said, shaking her shoulder lightly, "maybe this is a good thing."

Nancy wearily looked up at him. He looked hopeful.

"Do you think since Callie is seeing me with someone else, she'll get a little…jealous…and she'll want us to have a talk if we're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Frank asked anxiously.

Nancy sat up and looked at him fondly. He had a bigger vocabulary than most adults' and had just given her a therapy session better than some psychiatrists could have, but in that moment he looked like a normal teenager who had a crush on a girl.

"No," Nancy said when she remembered the question. "Callie is all about girl power, especially when it's just us girls hanging out. She wouldn't fight another girl for you."

"Then what do I do?" Frank asked. "I held her hand the other day and she sort of tolerated it but didn't seem entirely sure, you know? I'll die if things go back to the way they were between her and me. What does she say about me to the girls?"

Nancy recollected. "She says that she finally sees how all your knowledge and hard work will help you to be a terrific detective one day, and she says that she likes you and you two aren't official _yet_."

Frank looked flushed and pleased.

"So my advice is to give her just a little more time to get used to the idea," Nancy told him. Nancy remembered Callie's concerns from the previous week, how Callie had wondered if Frank would want to only do boring things and if Frank would expect his girlfriend to be as smart as he was. Nancy also wondered if Callie was worried about going through the same issues with Frank as Iola went through with Phil. But Frank certainly had better social perception than Phil. "And maybe it would help if you and Phil took Callie and Iola on a double date," Nancy added. "And make sure that you and Phil aren't trying to impress them with facts or opinions or career goals. Show them just how much fun two smart guys can be. And tell Callie the truth about our meeting, that you were giving me advice about Tony, and invite her here with us now."

Frank gave her a grateful look and began to reply to Callie. Nancy's cell phone rang. It was Tony. "Darn it. I knew they would send Tony the picture, too," Nancy said.

"Somehow I don't think he'll be as jealous as he used to be," Frank said while texting. "Everyone sees how you look at him, the lucky bastard. I hope Callie looks at me like that some day."

Nancy pressed the answer button. Frank was right: Tony's tone was only curious, asking her what was going on. Nancy told him that Frank had been giving her advice and that she wanted to speak to Tony in person at school tomorrow. He immediately asked if she was breaking up with him and she reassured him that she was not; she was very happy with their relationship and wanted to talk about ways to make it even better.

Callie arrived at the arcade in record time. She ran to Nancy for a hug, but the hug she gave Frank was just a little bit longer.

Nancy waited a respectable ten minutes, when they were well-established at an arcade game, before she explained how unfortunate it was that she had a headache coming on and needed to get home.

Callie took both of Nancy's hands in hers. "Are you matchmaking, Nancy Drew?" she asked softly.

Nancy smiled and nodded. "Stay out as late as you can. He's a Scout. He'll make sure you get home safely after it gets dark."

Frank gave her a powerful embrace before she left.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Home stretch! Extreme thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: sm2003495, katnissta, ErinJordan, Rose12, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2013, angelicalkiss, and Cherylann Rivers. Cherylann, I badly wanted to post an April Fool's chapter for you in which Tony randomly hooks up with Callie, but I refrained! JB_

Nancy met Tony on the bleachers in the school gym the next morning a half hour before school started. She told him how sorry she was that Michael was involved in the mystery, and asked if it had been awkward to be around his brother yesterday.

"He hangs around the adults at our family picnics, and then he was out last night, and out of the house again by the time I woke up this morning. Hopefully not doing drugs," Tony said, subdued. He took Nancy's hand. "But what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"First of all, have you ever been drunk? Do you drink?" Nancy asked bluntly.

"What? No! What asshole has been making up stories about me? Oh, wait." Tony looked moderately sheepish. "Is this about that picture from middle school? I guess I'm the asshole who's been making up stories about myself. I was trying to look cool, but now I look like a loser to my girlfriend. Is that what you were asking Frank about last night? Did he explain that my family sometimes gives wine to the kids at holidays?"

"Yeah," Nancy told him, relieved. "So you've never been drunk and you haven't had a sip of anything since you took that selfie?"

"Right. I'm sorry for doing that, and I'm sorry that rumor worried you. I want to say it was a guy thing, but it was probably really just a stupid thing. I've gotten a little better since then about the…ummm…"

"Stupid bragging lies," Nancy finished for him, but she was looking at him affectionately.

"Stupid bragging lies," Tony agreed, and smiled at her, appearing slightly embarrassed. "But I don't think you wanted to meet me just to talk about that. Is this about my freak out yesterday, by any chance?"

Nancy liked him so much in that moment that she was quite tempted to contradict him; however, she forced herself to nod and follow Frank's recommendation exactly. She told him that she was totally unused to angry outbursts, including raised voices, and how he seemed like a stranger when he had these occasional episodes. "I wasn't afraid that you would hurt me, but it was terrible to think that you couldn't be reasoned with, that you might have refused to stop throwing things. I kept thinking that there weren't any adults around this time that could have stopped you…I don't ever want to think that again, wondering who's going to stop you next time and how far you'll go," she finished.

Throughout Nancy's monologue, Tony had leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring down at the gym floor with a blank expression. He was silent for a long time afterward. Nancy wanted to comfort him but didn't. Finally he said, "I have a hundred lame excuses I want to give you right now, but I'm not going to say any of them. I don't ever want you to be scared of what I might do next. God, I'm such a bastard, and I'm sorry, Nancy. Are you telling me that if anything happens again, then you and I are over?"

Nancy had thought about that question, but still wasn't quite sure. "Don't beat anybody else up," she told him. "And please try your very hardest not to throw anything, hit anything, any of it. I really don't want the kind of relationship where you come begging me for forgiveness and then _I'm_ the one feeling guilty."

"No, I don't want that either," Tony said quietly, finally looking at her once more. "I'm not going to beat up anybody else. I only ever thought that my anger would get me in trouble with adults, but now I see that it might cost me…Nancy, I promise you that I'm going to try my very best. And if I can't do it, I'll be the one to end our relationship, so you don't have to feel guilty. You deserve a guy who can control himself."

Nancy was pleased with how the conversation had gone. Tony hadn't justified himself, acted like it was all in her mind, or made unrealistic promises. She liked his apology and plan for the future. She tilted forward for a kiss, but he only wanted to hold her.

Nancy had wondered if things would be weird with him after that talk, but, a few minutes later in homeroom, their rapidly filling classroom turned the mood informal once more. Nancy's efforts to pay attention in class to prepare for midterms were futile; she had too many other things distracting her. Joe teased them about their upcoming community service, but Nancy suspected that he felt a bit left out.

Community service started at 3:30, right when school got out. The community service leader, who introduced herself as Mrs. Scott, picked them up at the school. Callie, Frank, Nancy, and Tony, along with two other high schoolers that they didn't know, put on embarrassing orange fluorescent vests—for safety purposes, they were told—and got in a van.

"It's a very short ride there. We'll be putting the gardens to bed in public areas," Mrs. Scott announced as she drove. "Cutting back perennials, pulling dying annuals, cleaning up overgrowth, and tilling the soil just a little bit."

Callie's eyes lit up. Gardening was her hobby and these community service hours were obviously not going to be a hardship for her.

"What location are we going to today?" Frank asked. "My mom is giving the four of us a ride home and I need to let her know."

"Bayport Community Park," Mrs. Scott answered.

Tony sat up straight and swore softly. A few seconds later, they arrived at their destination and Nancy saw what his problem was.

Prito Construction was building the frame of a new office complex that was going up next door to the park. Six or seven of Tony's male relatives made up a small crew that was currently working. The van pulled into the same parking lot that the Prito Construction trucks were in.

The teens filed out of the van and gethered their supplies. The Prito men began to laugh, cheer, and catcall when they realized who their new neighbors were. It was hopeless; Tony was the last teen out of the van, but by that time, his relatives had their phones out to take pictures.

"Don't let these juvenile delinquents teach you any bad habits, men," Mr. Prito called out to his crew.

"I'm going to wear that vest on my next date with Polly," Michael joined in.

Tony waited until Mrs. Scott's back was turned and gave them all the finger.

"Let's give them something to take pictures of," Nancy said to Tony. She grasped him by the shoulders of the vest and planted a closed-mouth kiss on him. Tony responded, wrapping his hands around her hips, and the catcalls increased to such a ridiculous degree that Mrs. Scott turned around and broke them up.

"Let's start at the middle of the park and work outward, to avoid distractions as long as we can," Mrs. Scott said with an eye roll. The park was several hundred yards long and they had their work cut out for them.

"We're less than a mile away from our houses, Tony," Frank said. "I texted my mom and said that we would walk home instead. I explained that Prito Construction is next to us and we need to leave quickly at 5:30 by the residential streets to avoid any further harassment."

"So you're saying that you wanted to walk me home," Callie said, smiling knowingly at him.

Frank grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. "That might have been part of my decision."

They got to work. Callie realized that Frank knew nothing about gardening and she clapped cheerfully, as this might be her only opportunity to teach him about a subject he didn't already know. Frank asked Callie detailed questions about gardens that sounded so boring that Nancy wasn't even interested in eavesdropping, and he seemed to find many stupid reasons to put his glove on Callie's like they were doing life-saving surgery on the flowers. Nancy trimmed the foliage that they told her trim and Tony pulled the foliage that they told him to pull.

"Hey," Tony said to Nancy after an hour. "They finally trust us on our own with these plants, like maybe we won't kill the wrong ones." Frank and Callie had worked steadily toward the opposite end of the park, and were now almost hidden from view by a small playground. The other two teens and Mrs. Scott were working westward. Their little group was now significantly scattered.

Nancy stood up to give her back a break.

"Get back down here," Tony said. "I like the view when you're bending over."

Nancy frowned as she looked into the distance and saw a familiar car. She and Tony were now only a couple of hundred feet away from the parking lot, but Tony's relatives were no longer interested in them; she knew they were probably thinking of packing up and heading home for the day. She looked at her watch and then back at Tony. "Frank's dad is here," she said, confused. "It's only 5:00. We still have another half hour of work. Doesn't Frank's mom usually give all the rides? And didn't Frank tell her that we didn't want a ride home? Yet he shows up a half hour early."

Mr. Hardy got out of his Crown Victoria and approached Nancy and Tony. They exchanged greetings with him. "Where's Frank?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"He and Callie are gardening behind the playground," Tony explained, standing up and pointing.

"I see. I'm sure there are a lot of plants in the most isolated section of this park that need Frank and Callie's full attention," Mr. Hardy said dryly. He brushed an imaginary tear off his cheek. "Frank has both book smarts and street smarts. I'm so proud."

"I think he might have wanted to walk Callie home afterward," Nancy said, and then felt foolish for thinking without speaking. She had wanted Frank and Callie to have more time together, but had realized too late how rude her comment was. Mr. Hardy was already here.

"That might be a good idea. I should have thought of that," Mr. Hardy said with a wink. "That's okay. I'll hang around here until you're finished, and then maybe I'll give anybody a ride home who wants one. Don't even tell Frank I'm here."

Nancy nodded, and before she had thought of another social pleasantry Mr. Hardy had headed back to his car.

"Why is he parked along the curb?" Tony asked. "Why not in the parking lot along with everyone else?"

Nancy didn't answer. Not only was Mr. Hardy parked along the curb, but he was facing the wrong way, on the left side of the street. He had gotten back in his car and wasn't fiddling on his phone or doing anything to pass the time. He looked focused and pensive. From his vantage point, he seemed to have a perfect view of the construction company as they began to pack up for the night.

After several moments Nancy glanced over at Mrs. Scott. Fortunately, she seemed absorbed working alongside the two teenagers Nancy didn't know. Nevertheless Nancy said, "I guess to avoid attention, we should at least look like we're working—"

"Damn," Tony interrupted, sounding alarmed. "I've never seen him so pissed off."

Nancy immediately turned to where Tony was looking and saw Michael striding toward his truck, hanging up his phone and tucking it into his back pocket. His face was tight and heated with anger, a deep scowl creasing his forehead. He got in his truck and slammed the door. He threw it into reverse and squealed wheels backing it out of the parking space.

Mr. Hardy's engine came to life.

Michael had just put his foot to the gas when Mr. Hardy drove forward and stopped, his car spanning the parking lot exit so Michael couldn't leave. Michael had plenty of time to brake.

Michael rolled down the window and shouted something at Mr. Hardy, then tried to drive around him and ride over the curb. Mr. Hardy backed up to block him again. This time Michael just barely braked in time.

"Oh my god," Nancy said and gripped Tony's hand. His hand felt clammy.

Michael exited his truck, talking and gesturing angrily, and Nancy was afraid of how the situation might escalate. Mr. Hardy got out of his car, looking composed, palms up in a conciliatory gesture, and said a few sentences to Michael in a low voice. Michael stopped speaking and appeared to start listening, calming down. Then Michael's shoulders seemed to slump in defeat. Michael nodded and got back in his truck.

All eyes of the construction crew were glued to the scene. Mr. Prito walked over and Mr. Hardy said a few words to him. Michael re-parked his truck, got out, and got into Mr. Hardy's passenger side seat.

"Mr. Hardy can't arrest anybody, right?" Nancy asked.

"No, not anymore," Tony confirmed, still sounding upset.

Mr. Hardy walked over to Tony and Nancy. Nancy looked around the park; Mrs. Scott and her two workers were returning to their tasks, and Frank and Callie were still far away on the edge of the park, view blocked by the playground. "Michael and I are going to have a talk," Mr. Hardy said. "Looks like you young people can have your romantic walks home after all. Or ride home with your dad." He put a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder, but didn't promise him that everything would be okay.

Tony and Nancy nodded. Mr. Hardy got back into his car and drove away with Michael. After an awkward pause, the construction company continued to pack up.

"Go ask your dad what happened," Nancy encouraged him.

"I don't think he'd tell me. I need him distracted," Tony said. "Michael didn't roll his window back up. I'm going to search his truck." At that moment the Prito men began coiling up a complicated-looking piece of construction equipment, and Tony headed across the parking lot before Nancy could try to stop him. Tony searched the truck using the same method that Nancy had, only much faster: glancing in the truck bed, looking under the bench seat, and sifting through the glove box.

"Antonio!" his father shouted across the parking lot. "Get out of there."

Tony shut the door and walked back to Nancy. "It's gone," he said. He looked afraid. "There's nothing new in there, but the script for the methadone is gone. I'm going home and searching Michael's bedroom. You don't have to come with me, Nancy. He's my brother, not yours."

Tony crouched down, a pretense of getting back to work, and slipped away down a residential street as soon as the construction crew and Mrs. Scott weren't looking.

Nancy briefly considered telling Mr. Prito. But Tony's dad seemed to be so elusive sometimes, a ghost that wasn't really involved. There must have been a reason why Michael had assumed more of an authoritarian role with Tony. She wondered how much Mr. Prito really cared about his sons.

Her hesitation was costing valuable time. Tony was heading farther and farther away. There was no time to even bring Frank and Callie with her. Nancy made her decision, quietly walked off the scene, then ran to catch up with Tony.

She slipped her hand into his as they walked quickly, almost running. "I'm glad you're with me, Nancy," Tony said after a while. "But I might freak out if I find something bad in there."

"I'll be right next to you no matter what you find," Nancy answered.

Tony's house was three-quarters of a mile away. They arrived and Tony sprinted up the stairs. Nancy stood in the doorway to Michael's bedroom as Tony hastily looked up and down the closet and checked under the mattress. He got on his knees and looked under the bed.

Nancy didn't help search. Tony was moving quickly around the room and she would only get in the way. Michael's bedroom was even smaller and less furnished than Tony's was. There weren't many places to hide anything. Tony turned to Michael's dresser.

"I'm here with you," Nancy said, wondering if he even heard her supportive words in the agitated state he was in. "I'm right here. No matter what's in there."

Tony didn't answer. He opened Michael's top dresser drawer and searched it. Only underwear and socks. The second drawer had more clothes.

The third drawer contained an assortment of items: deodorant, money, notebooks, condoms, cologne. Tony sifted through it and paused. From underneath the pile he pulled out a long, thin container. He showed it to Nancy.

It was a bubble pack of pills. Two days' dosages were empty, the foil ripped and open; someone had been taking them. The upper left hand corner labeled the prescription for Michael Prito, Methadone 50 mg. Take once daily. Controlled substance. Take exactly as prescribed.

Nancy felt the hope drain out of her. All she could do now was comfort her boyfriend. "Tony," she said. "I think—"

"I hate him," Tony said. "I never want to see him again." Anger, fear, and heartbreaking sadness contorted his features. He dropped the bubble pack back into the drawer. He gripped the corners of the dresser, his knuckles turning white; then he looked at Nancy and let go, thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets. Nancy knew that if they hadn't had their talk this morning about his anger, Tony would be wrecking his brother's room right now.

"I need a minute," Tony said. "Just stand there, and be with me, and don't come near me." He sat on Michael's bed and stared at the floor. The anger subsided; fear and sadness had won, temporarily at least. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and squeezed them together so hard that Nancy knew he was hurting himself. He blinked rapidly and burst into helpless, frustrated tears.

At that moment the front door opened. Nancy stepped further inside the room, out of the doorway. It no longer felt like a big deal to be caught searching Michael's bedroom.

Michael soon entered his bedroom and paused next to his dresser. He didn't acknowledge Nancy; he was focused only on Tony, who was crying on the bed. Michael looked down at the open dresser drawer and the medication pack lying inside it.

"Damn it, Tony," Michael said wearily, the sadness in his eyes matching his brother's. "I didn't want you involved in this."

Tony leaped off the bed. He wiped a streak of tears off one cheek. "I hate you," he yelled up at Michael, who was half a foot taller than him. "You are not my brother anymore. You lie and you're fake. Doing drugs—dealing drugs—and now they're going to lock you up—" Tony's frustration built until he seemed to forget his English, shouting at his brother in a stream of passionate Italian, hands flying in heated gestures.

"Tony," Michael interrupted. "Come here."

Tony did not obey, but he began to slow down, his volume lowering.

"Tony," Michael repeated, more gently this time. "Listen to me. Trust me. Come here."

Tony looked at his brother defiantly. He angrily swiped away more tears. Then he took three steps across the small room and Michael wrapped him in a tight hug.

Tony's fists clenched tightly at his sides; then he clung to his brother desperately, quietly crying into Michael's shirt.

"I am not doing drugs," Michael said to him. "Or dealing drugs. Not like that, anyway."

Mr. Hardy stepped into the room and Nancy realized that he must have been in the hall watching the entire time. Michael kept one arm around Tony and used the other to take the bubble pack of methadone out of his open dresser drawer and hand it to Mr. Hardy.

"We'll explain what's been going on. At my house, to everyone who's involved," Mr. Hardy said.


	24. Chapter 24

Mr. Hardy drove Michael, Tony, and Nancy the half mile to the Hardy house. Tony sat in the middle of the backseat, holding Nancy's hand, yet leaning into his brother for support. Michael had kept an arm around Tony since they'd hugged in Michael's bedroom. Tony had calmed down quickly after learning that Michael wasn't on drugs or dealing drugs, but he knew that whatever news he was about to hear still wouldn't be good.

"So now we need to gather everyone at my house who knows about this," Mr. Hardy said, glancing at the three of them in the rearview mirror. "Which of the teenagers have been involved in this investigation with you?"

"Frank, Joe, and Biff," Nancy answered.

Mr. Hardy frowned. "That's it? You didn't tell any of the girls, or Phil?"

"Well, we wanted to very much," Nancy explained, "but we also wanted to use discretion, so we kept it to only a few people."

Mr. Hardy nodded and seemed pleased. "A very wise choice," he said. "Since only a few people know about this, there's still a chance that we might be able to…I need you to get me the phone number for Biff's mother, Nancy. And I want a parent there from each family, too."

"Who do you want, Tony?" Michael asked his little brother. "Mom or Dad?"

"Dad," Tony said. "I don't want to see Mom cry."

Nancy told Mr. Hardy that she wanted both of her parents there. Her dad might be quite upset, and she needed her stepmother there to calm him down and comfort her, too.

Michael, Nancy, and Tony sat on the living room couch while Mr. Hardy spoke in low tones in the kitchen to his wife. Mr. Hardy called up the stairs to Joe, who came down and sat in the living room with the three other young people. Mrs. Hardy headed out to interrupt Frank's walk home with Callie, calling him with a cover story that Aunt Gertrude had come for an unexpected family visit. Nancy texted Biff for his mother's phone number and Mr. Hardy disappeared in the kitchen to call her.

Mr. Prito arrived first. Nancy shifted on the couch, prepared to give up her seat so he could be next to Tony, yet Mr. Prito immediately headed for the open seat on Michael's left. Mr. Prito didn't say anything, but put a hand on Michael's shoulder. Nancy frowned in confusion, and then considered that maybe Michael did need more comfort than Tony, even if Michael had made some bad choices.

"Your community service lady is very mad at the two of you," Mr. Prito said as they waited, addressing Nancy and Tony. "She's refusing to sign off on your hours for today. And she wants her vests back."

This statement helped to ease just a little bit of the tension in the room. Nancy realized that she and Tony were, indeed, still wearing their ugly orange safety vests.

It seemed to take forever for everyone to assemble in folding chairs in the Hardys' living room, especially since Nancy's dad and Griselda were both coming from work, but finally eleven people were gathered there: the four Hardys, the three Pritos, and Nancy, Carson, and Griselda. Nancy cringed when her dad shook hands with Mr. Prito; these were less than ideal circumstances for her father to meet her boyfriend's father.

Mr. Hardy cleared his throat and addressed the large circle. "So the reason we're all together right now is because our kids have been investigating a mystery since the beginning of school. A mystery of a very sensitive nature, which is now solved."

Nancy acutely felt the wary, uncomfortable sense of trepidation in the room. She hadn't looked her father in the eyes since he'd arrived. If he made any comments that he'd known all along that the Pritos were a no-good criminal family, or if he even had a gloating expression on his face, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to forgive him.

"And, just so everyone is aware, there is a fifth teen, Biff Hooper, who was part of the teen investigation as well. He and his mother can't be here due to her work schedule and lack of childcare for her daughter, but I explained the situation to her and she said she'll go along with whatever solution our group agrees on." Mr. Hardy gestured toward Michael. "Michael and our local football coach have explained the full story to me, and Michael has asked me to explain it to the group for him. He'll jump in if I get anything wrong."

Michael was looking at the floor. He still had a tight arm around Tony.

"So this story goes all the way back to a very sad event that happened in the early 1990s," Mr. Hardy began. "Coach Hafetz's older sister Sophie became addicted to heroin and died of an overdose when she was in her early 20s. The Hafetz family was deeply ashamed by her death, refusing to discuss it or process their grief even among themselves, even refusing to publish an obituary in the major newspapers or have a funeral service. Coach was younger than Sophie and deeply affected by her death. When he went to college, he learned about a group called Nar-Anon, a twelve-step program to help people heal who have been hurt by a loved one's addiction. Coach made a very good friend in those meetings, a young pre-med student named Jansen Young. Coach's marriage a few years ago, plus the added stress when his two children were born, made him want extra emotional support. So he called his old friend Jansen Young, now Dr. Young, and the two of them began attending a Thursday night Nar-Anon group that's halfway between their hometowns. Since Coach and the upperclassman English teacher are friends, Coach told Miss Swain that he thought she could benefit from the group, too, so he invited her to a meeting."

The room was perfectly silent. Nancy realized that her dad and Griselda were each holding one of her hands.

Mr. Hardy continued. "Miss Swain declined Coach's offer of a meeting, but made a mental note that he had a doctor friend in Nar-Anon. And so, in the middle of this past summer, Miss Swain approached Coach Hafetz and told him that someone she cared about deeply had relapsed on heroin. This person didn't believe he had a problem, but thought that he had beat his addiction and could now use heroin only occasionally, for fun. Miss Swain told Coach that her loved one was refusing to go to treatment, but if someone made it perfectly easy for him to just take a pill with his breakfast, Medication Assisted Treatment had helped achieve years of sobriety in the past and might again. Coach Hafetz agonized over the decision and eventually agreed to speak to Dr. Young, even though a script for methadone is considered out of the competency range of a primary doctor. Dr. Young gave Coach methadone scripts every two weeks at the Thursday night meeting to give to Miss Swain on Friday afternoons, with the understanding that professional treatment had to get involved by the end of the summer. And so Miss Swain had a nice excuse to hang out flirting at the pizzeria and visit her loved one in the mornings at his house after his wife had gone to work."

"My cousin Freddie, _va fungool_," Mr. Prito interrupted, his voice a combination of disappointed and angry. "I thought he had finally beat this. And this time he got my boys involved."

"It was my choice, Dad," Michael said, finally looking up and at his father.

"Freddie?" Tony said sadly.

"And then Nancy intercepted a note at the Labor Day roller skating night," Mr. Hardy said, gesturing for Nancy to tell the group.

"It said that Coach would meet Miss Swain in the school gym at 4:00 on Friday, September 7th, and Coach would slip Miss Swain the package," Nancy said.

"Nancy told my wife about this note. My wife and I were both fooled, thinking that Coach and Miss Swain were having an affair, but Nancy wasn't fooled." Mr. Hardy smiled gently at her. "Coach Hafetz had deliberately phrased the note in a provocative way in case someone intercepted it; also, since there was no package, just a slip of blue paper in Coach's pocket, there was no evidence to the contrary when my wife attempted to intervene. Freddie was still unwilling to enroll in professional drug treatment by the end of the summer, although he was doing better with Miss Swain home delivering his morning dose of meds, and Miss Swain successfully talked Coach and Dr. Young into two more scripts of methadone. Finally Coach put his foot down, insisting that Freddie needed a permanent solution of professional, on-the-books treatment. Then Miss Swain found a new boyfriend and was no longer interested in trying to rescue Freddie. So she did him one last favor before she removed herself from the situation."

Mr. Prito addressed Michael. "She must have come to you, saying that you could take over the daily methadone deliveries if you wanted to. That's why you leave the house so early, to give Freddie his supervised morning dose. I bet you have to talk him into it, too."

"I'm sorry," Michael said quietly.

"You thought you were helping out someone in the family," Mr. Prito responded. "You made a hard choice. And you're not doing this anymore. Freddie made his bed and now he's going to lay in it. I'm going over there to tell him what's going to happen if he doesn't go back to the clinic. I'll beg your mother to let him keep his job, but only if he gets help. I think she'll probably listen to me…maybe not, though. Stubborn Sicilian women," he muttered.

"You and I will head over there together later on tonight, Vinnie," Mr. Hardy said. "Freddie is not in any condition to speak rationally to us at the moment. It's a good thing I had just spoken to Coach today, because Michael called Freddie this afternoon, asking Freddie why he had dropped his baby off at Nonna's for babysitting and texted out of work yet again. Freddie was obviously high off his ass, and so apparently had only been pretending to take his methadone pill this morning, and Michael was heading over there to beat the hell out of him."

"I'm calm now, though, Dad," Michael said. "My truck is still at the construction parking lot. I'll ride over to Freddie's tonight with you in your truck."

"You're not invited. You grew up too fast. Go be young tonight," Mr. Prito told his older son. "Take your girl out to a movie. Take a few days off work. Freddie is my cousin and I'll take care of this. I do appreciate the help, though, Fenton."

"We could sure use a lawyer there with us," Mr. Hardy said, looking at Carson.

Nancy looked at her father. She'd been so absorbed by the back and forth between Mr. Hardy and the Pritos that she had no idea how anyone in the rest of the room was reacting to what was going on. "Yes, I'll come with you both," Carson said, nodding. He appeared grimly serious, but taking this better than Nancy had thought he would. "And you shouldn't be too hard on yourself," he said to Michael. "You love your family and you were trying to help. You've learned from this."

Nancy sat stunned for a moment. Had her dad really made such a supportive comment? She had a lot of unanswered questions, but one was prominent. "So is this whole situation illegal, Dad?" she asked.

Carson sighed. "It happens all the time and methadone prescriptions don't have the street value or abuse potential of other drugs. But, yes, it is illegal distribution of a controlled substance. Which is another reason, along with everything you've just heard," Carson said, leaning in toward Nancy and speaking more gently, "why you should never, ever try drugs, Nancy, not even once—"

"So who's going to jail?" Nancy interrupted. "Freddie? Coach Hafetz? Miss Swain? Dr. Young? The people at the pharmacy?" Nancy looked at Michael and couldn't even say his name. Her eyes filled with tears and her throat felt tight. "Daddy," she said, her voice trembling, "I don't want to be a detective anymore."

"Not everyone who does something illegal ends up going to jail, Nancy," Mr. Hardy said kindly. "Mr. Prito, your dad, and I are heading over to Freddie's house tonight to intercede. By the end of the evening, we'll call Child Protective Services to open up a case because Freddie has an infant daughter living with him and his wife. CPS will take it from there and most likely refer him to Drug Court as well. There will be legal ramifications for possessing and using heroin. Freddie will certainly be mandated to treatment, counseling, court dates, and random urine tests. He might not be permitted to be around his baby unsupervised."

"His wife will leave him," Michael interjected.

"Which would be her choice, and based on Freddie's choices, not yours," Mr. Hardy responded. "And so. We are left with one final item of business. I propose that the focus of our intervention should be solely and entirely on getting Freddie and his family the help that they need. I believe that the actions of Coach Hafetz, Dr. Young, Miss Swain, and Michael were well-intentioned mistakes. Does anyone believe that legal action should be taken regarding any of those four individuals?"

There was a pause, and then Carson spoke up. "I guess I'm just concerned that this Dr. Young will keep writing more bad scripts if he doesn't get a slap on the wrist."

Michael spoke up. "Coach told me that this is the first and last time they've ever done anything like this, together at least. I hope the doctor doesn't get in trouble for trying to help my family…it was hell convincing them to give me that twenty day script for methadone, and they did it on two conditions: that I would never ask for another one, and that I had to call Dr. Young so he could explain the process on how to get Freddie into professional treatment. So, after I used the leftover pills that Miss Swain gave me, I only had eighteen more days to convince Freddie to get treatment. And we see how well _that_ was working," he finished, sounding dejected.

Nancy didn't think she'd ever heard Michael speak for so long at one time. He looked tired and ashamed. Mr. Prito leaned in and began speaking quietly to him, partially in Italian.

"I'm hearing you, Carson," Mr. Hardy said in a lower voice while Michael was distracted. "I was planning on calling a colleague of mine to do some investigation to see if there's a suspicious pattern in the prescriptions that Dr. Young writes. I might put in a call to the licensing board based on what she finds out."

Carson nodded, acknowledging that he was satisfied with that plan.

"Any other objections?" Mr. Hardy waited a significant amount of time. No one spoke. "Are we all willing to swear to confidentiality?"

"Yes," Mrs. Hardy said immediately. Heads began to nod around the room.

Mr. Hardy turned to Joe, who was next in the circle. "Joe, will you promise to never tell an additional person about this case?"

Joe agreed. Nancy remembered something Frank had told her a long time ago, that Mr. Hardy assigned Frank and Joe articles on ethics to prepare them for situations exactly like this one.

Mr. Hardy continued around the room and each group member gave a verbal agreement. The meeting broke up soon afterward. The men drifted toward the kitchen to make plans for the upcoming intervention at Freddie's. Nancy accepted comfort from Griselda, standing up and silently leaning into her arms. Michael and Tony were still huddled together on the couch, accepting awkward condolences from Frank and Joe; no one quite knew what to say. Soon Mrs. Hardy pulled Frank and Joe into another room, and Nancy presumed that she was checking in on how they were doing. The mystery was solved, but no one felt good about it.

"I set a terrible example for you, Tony," Nancy overheard Michael say in a low voice. "I'm always telling you to talk to adults about things, and then I do something like this…I haven't been a good older brother to you."

"Good," Tony answered. "Now I'll have an excuse when I join a gang, rob banks, spend my life in prison…everything will always be your fault, just as it should be."

"You're a little shit, always and forever," Michael growled, and Nancy heard scuffling that sounded suspiciously like two brothers horsing around on the Hardys' furniture. Nancy pulled away from Griselda and turned around, enjoying the show until Michael sat on Tony, effectively subduing him.

"And you're a little shit, too, Nancy," Michael added, giving her a surprised, admiring look. "Fenton didn't give me any details, but he told me that you solved the case for him."

Nancy's eyes widened. "Me? I had no idea what was going on!"

Tony couldn't breathe so Michael let him go. "Polly's at class tonight," Michael said. "So how about I take you and your idiot boyfriend to the roller skating rink? God knows Tony needs a few dozen lessons. It'll be a great excuse for him to hang all over you, Nancy. Wait…" Michael looked at Griselda uncertainly. "I'll understand if you want me to keep my distance for a while, Griselda."

"We want you to keep even less distance," Griselda reassured him. "Nancy and I want you and Polly to spend some time at our house after class this Thursday and try a new Italian dessert that we're going to make for you."

Nancy didn't quite have it in her to squeal in excitement, but she knew that she would later, maybe tomorrow or the next day. She looked at Griselda with gratitude as Michael accepted the invitation.

Nancy turned back to the Pritos. "Tonight is a brother night for you guys," she decided. "Are you mad at me for ringleading the investigation, Michael?"

"No," Michael said. "Who knows what would have happened if this hadn't ended tonight. Freddie and I would have come up with some lie about why we'd gotten in the fight and the whole miserable situation would have dragged on. And now I can go on that weekend trip with Polly, now that I'm not chained to Freddie's house every morning. Thank you, Nancy. And thank you for being gentle with my little brother, just like I asked you to."

Nancy tried very hard not to blush at his kind words. She mumbled some variation of "thank you" and pulled Tony into the Hardys' basement for a few quick kisses and a tight hug that she'd wanted to give him all evening. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.

"I'm okay," Tony replied. He seemed subdued, but coping well. "It really sucks about Freddie, but I get what the adults are saying, that we have to let him deal with whatever comes of his own decisions. So that's what his 'sickness' was about when he had to take a couple of years off work. Thank you for caring about my family, Nancy. You're a kick-ass detective."

"I hope I actually helped," Nancy said, still somewhat unsure.

"You helped a lot," Tony insisted. "It was quite a complicated first mystery, since a lot of people were sort of the good guys and the bad guys at the same time, but you never gave up trying to solve it, Nancy. You tried to spare my feelings, and then you were with me at the end, right when everything looked like it was really bad…I hope you tell Griselda that you love her soon, because I really want to tell you how I feel about you, and have you answer me in return."

So he had remembered when she'd told him that she wanted to say "I love you" to Griselda before considering saying it to him. Nancy kissed him again before they went back upstairs. Whatever Griselda had said to Michael in their absence had seemed to further lift Michael's mood. As the brothers were leaving, Michael looked meaningfully at Tony's florescent vest when Tony's back was turned; Tony had once again forgotten that he was wearing it and was now heading out into public. Michael winked at Nancy and Nancy felt butterflies briefly flutter in her stomach, then quickly subside.

Mr. Hardy came out from the kitchen. He smiled at Nancy. "Your dad asked me to give you a few private minutes to answer any lingering questions you have about the case."

"Really?" Nancy asked, wondering how many surprises one person could take in one day. "He wants me to…he's okay with me learning more about mysteries and drugs? I guess we did have that adult conversation the other night about interrogation techniques," she said, turning to Griselda.

"So maybe he's starting to understand just a tiny, little bit that he can't stop you from growing up." Griselda smiled at her, kissed her forehead, and headed into the kitchen toward Carson and Mr. Prito. Nancy appreciated her parents' gesture of giving her independence; however, she almost called Griselda back, but then considered that she wanted Mr. Hardy to feel comfortable to say anything he wanted to say to her.

"Should we get Joe and Frank?" Nancy asked Mr. Hardy.

"Mrs. Hardy and I are going to talk about the case later on with Frank and Joe, and include a little talk about drugs and alcohol that's long overdue. Although I suppose those three are getting started now without me. I'm sure your dad and Griselda will want to give you a talk about drugs and alcohol, too, and their style might be a little different from my and Mrs. Hardy's style," Mr. Hardy responded. He sat down and gestured for Nancy to do the same.

For a moment, Nancy was reminded of the interview she'd conducted in this room with Mrs. Hardy six weeks ago, and she felt unexpected wistfulness at some of her lost innocence since then. She still had a lot of growing up to do, but she wasn't quite as naïve as she used to be, and it was bittersweet that she would never see the world in such perfect all-or-nothing, good-guys-versus-bad-guys terms again.

Nancy forced herself to focus on this current interview. "Please, please tell me every detail about how you figured everything out and how I helped!" she begged, looking anxiously around the coffee table for supplies. "Can I borrow a notebook? I'll type up our interview tomorrow and give the notebook back to you if there are any pages left."

"Be careful that your hand doesn't cramp from all the note-taking, Nancy. My process of deduction was extremely complicated." Mr. Hardy gave her a pen and a napkin. Nancy felt like that hadn't exactly been what she'd asked for.

"Bullet point number one. 'Listen to intelligent people.'" Mr. Hardy nodded toward the napkin. "Write that down, Nancy." He refused to speak again until Nancy had written it down, using the coffee table for backing.

"As I said in our meeting, I thought this case was open and shut, that Coach Hafetz was having an affair with Miss Swain based on that note you intercepted. My wife and I had seen them speaking in hushed voices a couple of times this summer, after all, so it was a logical deduction, although apparently not a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes." Mr. Hardy rolled his eyes. "After my wife confronted them in the gym, we decided to wait and see if anything else happened. And then, a few weeks later, my wife asked me to please look into the case some more, as she thought you young people were acting a bit strangely and she wanted to rule out that anything else was going on. I wasn't really listening, assuming she was overreacting, so I promised to look into it when I had a spare moment and eventually forgot about it. Until this past weekend."

"Until the librarians told you that Joe and I were researching Sophie Conners' death?" Nancy guessed. "Or until you saw me searching Michael's truck at the football game?"

Mr. Hardy's eyebrows shot up. "You searched Michael's truck at the football game? You've got quite a pair of…no, Nancy, I did not see you search Michael's truck. You asked me a question out of left field at Sherlock Saturday two days ago, suspecting that the victim overdosed on recreational drugs. I felt like there weren't enough clues in that mystery to suggest that the victim had a drug problem, so I wondered what else might have gotten you thinking along those lines, and I remembered the mystery I was supposed to be investigating. Then I remembered how Coach's sister had died so tragically. So I called Coach to ask him what the hell was going on that had something to do with secret meetings in the gym and recreational drugs. He was out of town this weekend, but agreed to meet with me after school today." Mr. Hardy sat back in his chair.

Nancy waited for more of an explanation. None came. "Wait, that's it?" she asked. "You just went to Coach Hafetz and asked him what the hell was going on?"

"Yes. I've known Coach my entire life, so I know he has a good heart. I didn't think it would take much persuasion to make him talk, once he knew that I was on the right track and wasn't going to give up the investigation this time. Which brings us to bullet point number two. 'Study people's characters.' Write that down, Nancy." Mr. Hardy again refused to speak any further until Nancy had written down those words of wisdom on her napkin.

"Coach told me the gist of what was going on, but wouldn't give me the name of the person that the group was trying to help. He told me that I had to talk to Michael Prito if I wanted more information," Mr. Hardy continued. "Fortunately, right after I got home from my meeting with Coach, my wife told me that Frank had sent a text that you all were doing community service next to the Prito Construction crew. I've also known Michael his entire life, and I know what a good character he has. So I had the perfect pretense for showing up and parking there—giving you all a ride home—but I was really waiting for a good opportunity to ask Michael for a word in private. You saw how things got heated there for a moment, but Michael agreed to speak with me after I told him that I had spoken to Coach, I knew that he was in over his head trying to help someone with an addiction, and that I would do everything in my power to help while getting the law involved to the least degree necessary. Michael's story matched Coach Hafetz's story perfectly. It was quite obvious that Michael had reached his limit and wanted someone else to help him carry the burden of these tough decisions."

"Wow," Nancy said softly.

"Study your napkin. It will help you stay focused during the complicated and not-so-complicated mysteries in your detective career," Mr. Hardy commented.

Nancy looked at him uncertainly. "Do you really think I would be a good detective?"

"I'm sure of it," Mr. Hardy answered. "You and your team did an excellent job with field work, deductions, and researching drug use and treatments; the only research lacking was regarding the _culture_ of addiction. There is a term that applies to this case, about what happens when loved ones try to protect an addicted person from the consequences of their own bad choices. It's called 'enabling.' You see how Michael, Coach Hafetz, Dr. Young, and Miss Swain took on more responsibility for Freddie's decisions than he took for himself."

Nancy remembered something. "Does that have something to do with why the methadone script was in Michael's name, not Freddie's?"

"Good thinking. Yes. And that's one of the more disheartening aspects of this case," Mr. Hardy said with a sigh. "That's pretty sad, that Freddie is in such denial about having a problem that he was unwilling to go to the pharmacy to pick up his own damn medication. I'm sure Miss Swain would have loved to drive him there for support, too. The script was in Miss Swain's name first, and then Michael's, because methadone is a controlled substance; therefore, the out-of-town pharmacy that they use has a policy that the written scripts must be dropped off in person, not called in, and patients have to show their photo ID to pick it up. Sometimes Freddie would take his pill immediately, and sometimes Miss Swain or Michael would have to stay at his house for hours, patiently and painstakingly coaxing him to take it. And Miss Swain gave Michael two full weeks' worth of extra pills when she transferred the burden to him…that's telling me that Freddie wasn't taking it every day, probably because in September Miss Swain had to leave his house to get to school on time. Whatever comes of Freddie's addiction, you need to remember that it's Tony's family's responsibility to comfort Tony, not yours, Nancy."

"I'll try, but it will be hard. And I don't think I like Miss Swain very much," Nancy said quietly. "I know she was sort of trying to help Freddie, but she used the coach and the doctor's painful pasts to manipulate them into getting the script. And she was flirting with a married man, waiting for his wife to go to work in the morning to hang out at his house with him…and then she got tired of it and gave up on Freddie."

"I wonder how much Freddie's wife knows," Mr. Hardy mused. "But I'm quite grateful to be able to pass that mystery on to the family therapists at Child Protective Services. I don't blame you for disliking Miss Swain, Nancy, and I'm pretty disgusted that she chose to pass the baton to a twenty-year-old kid, and a former student at that. I know that twenty must feel like a very old age to you, but it's really not. I hope you can spare just a little bit of compassion for Miss Swain, though; remember, Coach invited Miss Swain to a Nar-Anon meeting, so there must be something painful in her past as well. I suspect that Miss Swain's problem is trying to rescue men from their own bad choices, which is doomed to fail. And now she's moved on to the next online boyfriend and the cycle continues. At least Coach Hafetz and Dr. Young are working on their issues, however imperfectly, but Miss Swain declined to join Nar-Anon. I'm very glad that my wife volunteered to have a follow-up conversation with her so I don't have to."

"This is really sad," Nancy commented. "So painful pasts don't only give people nightmares, they change the whole way a person thinks and acts. Since heroin is illegal, why didn't any of the adults just call in an anonymous tip to go check Freddie's house? Then Freddie would be forced to go to treatment, just like what's going to happen tonight."

Mr. Hardy shrugged. "It would have been pretty obvious who called it in, even if the tip was anonymous, and maybe they didn't want to 'rat out' someone in a big, powerful Italian family. But I suspect it's mostly because they wanted Freddie to learn to _want_ to enroll with drug treatment. They saw in their own families that drug treatment programs tend to work when people want to get better. But, since Freddie wasn't even taking his methadone every day or invested in his own recovery, he should have been legally mandated for involuntary treatment for the safety of himself and everyone around him. It's not a perfect solution, but it's better than nothing. I'm going to have a follow-up talk with Coach, and we're going to call Dr. Young together. I want them both to get Nar-Anon sponsors—they're like mentors—to help them work on their boundaries, and I'm going to warn them that I'll report it if anything like this happens again."

Something about Mr. Hardy's phrasing had stood out to Nancy. "Wait," she said slowly. "So you're reporting Freddie _since_ he wasn't invested in his own recovery? So are you saying that there's a chance that you might not be making a report if you'd heard today that Freddie had wanted to get better and taken his medication every day and gotten off the heroin? Even though heroin is illegal and primary doctors shouldn't be writing methadone scripts, especially for patients they never saw?"

Mr. Hardy smiled. "Sometimes I can be a badass, too. I asked your father for permission to email you some articles on ethics, and he agreed. He said you'll need to be prepared for these more 'gray area' types of mysteries if you're going to be helping Frank and Joe with the cases I give them next year."

Despite the gloomy mood of the past couple of hours and the stress of recent days, Nancy found herself capable: she screeched in happiness.

Her screech drew everyone's attention, and soon everyone was gathered in the living room once more. "But you young people will tell an adult the next time," Mr. Hardy warned sternly, looking between Frank, Joe, and Nancy. "Believe me, you'll be adults all too soon, and you'll yearn for the days when all you had to do is tell an adult when someone is in trouble. We're very lucky this didn't turn out any worse, and I need to know that you're not keeping any secrets from me when you help with cases next fall."

"And not until next fall," Mrs. Hardy emphasized, and extracted embarrassed apologies and promises from the youth. Then she gave her husband a solemn, meaningful glance. "You three are going to Freddie's now?" she asked quietly.

Mr. Hardy suddenly looked exhausted and significantly older. He nodded.

"And Freddie's wife will be home from work by now, too," Mr. Prito said, not sounding at all happy about the upcoming confrontation.

Nancy said brief goodbyes to Frank and Joe. She headed outside and watched her father hug Griselda tightly for support before he got in the car with Mr. Hardy and Mr. Prito. Soon she was riding home with Griselda.

Griselda held Nancy's hand while she drove. "Should we spend the drive home each praying silently for them?" she asked. Nancy nodded and realized that she liked her new Sunday School teacher better than the old ones in River Heights. People who make mistakes should be prayed for, not judged.

Nancy arrived home, sprinted up the stairs, and put on fluffy, comfortable Winnie the Pooh pajamas that didn't really fit her anymore. She got herself a huge bowl of ice cream for dinner and turned on Beauty and the Beast.

"Just for the rest of tonight," she said conspiratorially to Griselda, "I am a _kid_, not an adult." Griselda agreed, promised not to tell anyone, and watched the movie with Nancy.

_A/N: Thank you very much to my loyal reviewers for giving immediate feedback on the last chapter. Apologies if no one remembers who Cousin Freddie is! He was mentioned a few times in early chapters, but hasn't been mentioned again since chapter 17. When I originally wrote my rough draft in March, I must have given too few clues about him because I was afraid that the entire mystery was super obvious…there were definitely reviewers that were on the right track, but the fact that no one specifically guessed that Michael was giving daily doses of methadone to another person is also giving me some small hope that my reviewers aren't as personally affected by substance addictions as the family situations I see constantly in my career as a psychiatric social worker. Alas, our teen heroes didn't fully solve their first case, requiring adult assistance (although neither did Mr. Hardy, really); this is only a prequel to when they'll solve their own mysteries. The rest of the story isn't written yet but as of now I am anticipating one final chapter and an optional epilogue. Thank you for all your support and have a terrific Sunday! JB_


	25. Chapter 25

**11/4/18**

**Dear Mrs. Hardy:**

**I'm sorry that it's taken me more than a month to write the essay that you assigned me. You asked me to discuss when a young woman should follow her heart versus her head, when she should solve problems independently versus asking for help from an adult, and to describe an adult that I would feel confident to confide in. I kept thinking that I wasn't ready to answer these questions yet, since these issues seemed like such complicated shades of gray. Then I realized that seeing the world in shades of gray means that I'm growing up, which means that I'm ready to write the essay after all.**

**I don't know when a young woman should follow her heart versus her head. But Mrs. Hough, my new Sunday School teacher, said something in class recently that made a lot of sense. She said that Jesus said to love our neighbors as ourselves, love is an action more than an emotion, and so therefore we love our neighbors when we act for their good and not just for our own good. In our recent mystery, my friends and I thought that Michael was in big trouble, and it was selfish to keep the mystery to ourselves just because we were afraid that Michael would be angry with us or go to jail. Love would have gotten Michael (really, Freddie) the help that he needed, and told an adult, regardless of everyone's temporary bad feelings. After all, if I were behaving in a way that hurt myself or anyone else, I would hope that someone else would step in and help me no matter how much I didn't like it in the moment. And, since we're trying so hard to be seen as grown-ups, it shouldn't bother our pride so much to confide in **_**other**_** grown-ups, since we'll all be equal in just a short amount of time anyway.**

**Griselda is an adult that I would feel confident to confide in. I took the chance of confiding in her many times, and she has always listened respectfully and given me good advice without scolding me or treating me like a little kid. You are also an adult that I would feel confident to confide in, since you've seen me make many mistakes in my two months in Bayport, yet you always encouraged me to be friends with Frank and Joe and tried to steer me in the right direction. Instead of giving me rules, you gave me the right Jane Austen stories as I became ready for them, so I could learn the lessons for myself. Maybe that is why Jesus didn't speak to the crowds about rulebooks, but rather spoke in little stories called "parables," because people want to figure out the moral of the story for themselves and to be convinced to want to do the right thing. You know more than anybody how powerful a good story is.**

**I used to be embarrassed by the idea of asking you to be my mentor, because it would mean that you'd see me making even more mistakes, when I really, really want you to like me…but now I see that it's okay for people to admit when they need help. That's why there are Acknowledgements sections in books, because it always takes a village to write a book and solve a mystery. So….will you be my mentor? I promise I won't bother you too much, and I won't ask you to keep any secrets from my dad or Griselda. One day I want to be ten percent of the author you are. Thank you so much for going way out of your way to welcome me to Bayport.**

**Love,**

**Nancy**

Hbnd

Griselda drove Nancy over to the Hardys' house to hand-deliver her essay to Mrs. Hardy. Right before Nancy rang the doorbell, she decided to slip it into the mailbox instead, and then ran giggling back to Griselda's car.

"I want her to be surprised," she said to Griselda as they pulled away from the curb. "It's such a thrill to get letters that aren't junk mail." She held hands with Griselda on the rest of the drive. After all, Callie held hands with girls all the time, and all of the girls wanted to be as cool as Callie.

Nancy and Griselda parked and entered Lady Magpie's Tea & Curiosities, a "steampunk tearoom." It was inside an historical 1855 house (that looked rather haunted, in Nancy's opinion) that used to be owned by a series of sea captains, most of whom had drowned at sea under mysterious circumstances. Nancy's eyes lit up when their server guided them to the tea room. The only illumination came from old-fashioned, strange-looking lamps, giving off an eerie light. A hot air balloon toy rose and fell slowly via a combination of gears and steam. Various pictures of stern-looking women from 1920s Prohibition adorned the tables. The picture on Nancy and Griselda's table stated, "Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours."

"I love it," Nancy said in a low voice to Griselda once they were seated. "Happy birthday, Griselda. I should have come here with you a long time ago, back when you were begging me to. Miss Magpie made such an imprint in my subconscious that I made her the villain of my novel."

Griselda only smiled and ordered full high tea for two. Nancy didn't know how Griselda had the willpower to never say I-told-you-so.

"What does 'steampunk' mean?" Nancy asked their server.

"Steampunk is an imagined future where steam became the dominant power source instead of electricity," their server answered, her tone of voice pleasant despite obviously having had to answer the question every day for years. "That's why there's a focus on the Victorian era, the late 1800s to the 1920s. In our world, electricity won, but what if it didn't?"

Nancy thought that she might like to write a story about that once she did some more research. Their server left and she felt a bit anxious until Griselda began to ask interested, no-pressure questions about Nancy's daily life.

So Nancy told Griselda some cute babysitting anecdotes about Mary Hooper while they sipped their tea and waited for their food to come; she'd been amazed and grateful when Mrs. Hooper had wanted to follow through on their babysitting arrangement even after she'd found out that Nancy had led the boys into a rather intense mystery. Nancy had wondered if Biff would continue to spend time with their group after the mystery was solved, and was relieved and happy when he had. Biff and Joe had clicked immediately once they'd started hanging out regularly, making it ironic that now Tony was a bit jealous.

Their food arrived: small sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, and a variety of creative chocolate desserts. Nancy dug in, not eating at a ladylike pace, and suddenly realized that Griselda was eating quite slowly. "You don't like it?" she asked.

"I usually do. Everything's tasting just a little bit off, for some reason. Eat all you want to and we'll take the rest home." Griselda leaned forward, looking serious. "I have an update on Freddie's family that I heard this morning," Griselda said gently, her eyes carefully assessing Nancy's. "Tony's family will be telling him soon, too, so wait for them to tell him first. I wanted you to hear it from me ahead of time, if you'd like to."

Nancy inwardly braced herself. "Yeah, I want to hear it."

"The baby is going to stay with Nonna for possibly a long time," Griselda said gently. "Freddie has gone to live for a few weeks at a place that's going to try to help him, although of course they're not going to be able to help him if he doesn't want the help. His wife has filed for divorce. You couldn't have prevented any of this, sweetie, and you probably made the situation better than it would have been otherwise, although I'm very grateful that you promised to tell an adult next time."

Nancy slowly nodded. "None of that is too upsetting except for the divorce," she said quietly. "Their baby is never going to know what it's like to have parents who are together and love each other, like I do."

Griselda sputtered on her tea, burned herself, swore, and eventually managed to put her teacup back in her saucer. "Um, I was about to say that you only had one parent growing up, yet you turned out pretty darn good," Griselda stammered.

Griselda's unexpected nervousness finally gave Nancy the courage not to procrastinate her planned monologue any further. Nancy took one last sip of tea to steady her nerves. "I have something I want to say to you," she said, keeping steady eye contact with her stepmother. "I realize that I may have been a bit…standoffish…when you first began to date my dad. I thought that I was going to have to fight you for his attention, plus my world did end up turning upside down. But now I have two hometowns, River Heights and Bayport, and I still have Bess and George on top of a new great group of friends. And so I realize now that love doesn't shrink like that, like there's not enough to go around. You coming into our lives means that my dad's heart grew even bigger, so he's capable of loving you, plus loving me even more than he used to. And now I have the love of three parents, instead of two, since my mom is loving me from heaven. And so…I feel like…plus I choose to—" Nancy suddenly faltered toward the end, feeling awkward, but forced herself to say the words—"I love you, Griselda."

Griselda's eyes had slowly filled with tears as Nancy had spoken, culminating in a flinch, putting a hand over her mouth. Nancy waited uncertainly for Griselda to respond, and then realized that Griselda was incapable of speech for the time being. Nancy gave Griselda the time that she needed, and then Griselda carefully wiped her eyes with her napkin.

"God," Griselda said shakily, "I've only been married for your father for two and a half months. I thought for sure that if you _ever_ accepted me as part of the family, it would be after you were grown up and moved out…certainly years down the road…I tore you away from everything and everyone you loved, and in response you became even stronger, finding more roots, more friends, more ways to live life to the fullest…I wish I were your mother, and I'm so proud to be your stepmother, and I love you so, so, so much."

Nancy grinned and jumped out of her chair. Griselda stood just in time, pulling Nancy into a hug so tight that it almost hurt.

They stood like that for a long time, despite the stares and small smiles of other patrons, until Griselda spoke in Nancy's ear. "You know, your dad wants to have a very big party for my birthday, especially since he and I haven't quite gotten around to a honeymoon yet," Griselda told her. "And I told him that all I want is to see you happy with all of your new friends. Is there anywhere you want to take everyone?"

They released their embrace, looked at each other warmly, and took their seats once more. Nancy thought hard but couldn't think of anything. "I don't know enough about the East Coast to know what's fun to do around here," she said. "All I really want…can we just have one day where everything is not about Italian culture? I know that I'm mostly English and a little bit of Irish, and I want Tony to spend some time honoring my culture, too."

Griselda got a far-off look in her eye, and then a small smile formed on her face, bordering on a smirk. "I think I can think of something English to do," she said.

Hbnd

That Saturday, Nancy, Griselda, and Carson got into the grey Prius to head to Griselda's birthday party. Nancy called Polly and then Phil, receiving confirmation that the other two carpools were on their way, too.

The three Drews picked up Tony first, then Joe. "You'll have to sit in the middle, since you're the shortest one here now," Joe teased Tony in insensitive teen boy style, and Tony shrugged and complied. Tony had never seemed to care that he was not tall.

Griselda turned on Nancy's favorite radio station of the 80s and 90s and Joe and Tony began a loud debate of the best technique to try to beat the boss that kept defeating them in their newest blood-and-guts video game. Nancy decided to keep quiet and let the boys be boys. Soon her dad, evidently assuming that all three teens were distracted in the backseat, began speaking to Griselda in a low voice.

"You're so good with her," Carson said. Nancy was sitting behind Griselda, so she could see the affectionate look her dad briefly gave Griselda from the driver's seat before he had to focus on the road again. "I never thought I'd love anyone else after her mother died…and I know I'm not always easy to live with, either. You're a saint and I love you. Happy birthday, baby."

Griselda leaned in, kissed her dad on the cheek, and whispered something in his ear. Carson looked at his wife quite tenderly after she leaned back into her seat, his expression a mixture of admiration and love. Nancy smiled to herself; her dad was a newlywed and she'd never seen him so happy.

"But I'm still waiting for you to decide when and where we're going on our honeymoon," her dad continued, his voice even quieter. "I really don't care at all, I'm just thinking about those two new positions you promised me we'd try."

Nancy instantly regretted eavesdropping and turned her entire attention to Joe and Tony's suddenly enthralling video game debate.

It was quite a long drive but finally they arrived, cheering when they turned into the Medieval Times parking lot. A few minutes later, they entered the castle, cashing in their tickets for cardboard crowns while they excitedly took in the ambiance: suits of armor, a man with a falcon, plenty of items to purchase (of course), and a king giving a speech about photo ops. Nancy felt Tony take her hand and she grinned at him. They had been assigned to cheer for the red-and-yellow knight.

Polly's carpool arrived next, Polly and Michael only with eyes for each other. Biff entered, holding Mary's hand and laughing at something Vanessa had just said; for a brief, bizarre moment, Nancy thought that the three of them looked like the perfect all-American family, especially since Biff was one of the only guys in school who was significantly taller than Vanessa. Immediately afterward the final carpooling group entered, driven by Phil's older sister Esther, who was home from college for the weekend. Nancy's eyes widened when she saw that the reports on Esther's curvy hotness had been, if anything, underreported; she detected Polly's uneasiness as well, yet felt relieved when she glanced at both Prito brothers and saw that Esther's entrance had passed unnoticed.

The other groups got into the redemption line and Carson passed out a ticket to each of them. The friends profusely thanked Nancy's parents once again for their generosity.

Nancy soon overheard Phil. "The existence of Santa Claus is absolutely against all laws of physics, Iola."

"Phil," Iola said in a rare tone of exasperation, "I just _like_ to believe in Santa Claus, okay? Can we change the subject?"

Phil pulled his calculator out of his back pocket. "I was more than generous on the car ride, allowing reduced numbers of household visits due to Santa only visiting non-naughty Christian children, giving Santa 31 hours to work with because of time zones, and each child only receiving two pounds' worth of toys. 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb"—Phil typed on his calculator for the duration of his speech— "14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. And so they will burst into flame almost instantaneously and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. A 250-pound overweight Santa, meanwhile, would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds per square inch of force."

Nancy looked at Callie in alarm. As she'd feared, Callie was looking in trepidation from Phil to Frank. Nancy had heard that Frank, Callie, Phil, and Iola's double date had gone quite well, but Nancy still suspected that Callie might fear that Frank was a bit too similar to sweet, socially clueless Phil. Nancy tried to catch Frank's eye to warn him to intervene, but Frank seemed to be absorbed in staring at Callie's ass.

Michael suddenly appeared. "Confiscated," he said simply, holding out his hand to Phil.

Phil appeared stricken. "Come on, give me a warning first, Michael. I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

"Now. I'll give it back to you at the end of the night, after you give me twenty push-ups. Space Camp doesn't want any sissy boys," Michael ordered, and Phil miserably handed his calculator over. Nancy was appalled by the tense situation.

"I'm sure you can do _this_ math without help," Michael said, slinging an arm around Phil. "If there are four guys trying to have a nice ending with their girls tonight, and you put all the girls in a rotten mood with your math theorems, then how many guys are going to give you a beat down at the end of the night?"

Phil frowned. "Four. Was that a trick question? That seemed too easy." Then Phil broke into a grin as Polly and Iola clutched each other, laughing hysterically, and Nancy realized that the situation wasn't actually as tense as it seemed. Of course; Michael and Phil knew each other and might even be friends. They were dating cousins.

"It's okay, Phil," Frank said as he draped his arm around Callie's waist. "You just forgot that Santa can stop time and slip into other dimensions when he wants to. Science can neither prove nor disprove the existence of Santa."

Callie smiled at Frank and gave him a pleased kiss on the cheek.

Five minutes later, their large group of fifteen were ushered to their seats in a huge horse arena and served finger food of roasted chicken, garlic bread, corn, and potatoes. Nancy wondered how they could have possibly mass-produced such delicious food, and then wondered why her school cafeteria couldn't do the same. The lights dimmed for the show and the king and princess began with a speech about how the knight who won the jousting competition would win the princess's hand in marriage as well. Mary sat on Nancy's lap and the two girls screamed themselves hoarse with encouragements for their knight, but the red-and-yellow knight was defeated in the second round.

The events turned sinister when a bad guy on an evil horse interrupted the competition by threatening the safety and legitimacy of the monarchy. "It's not every day you see a horse with two rear ends!" Carson shouted at the bad guy, and it was so unexpected that their entire group burst out laughing. Esther Cohen leaned toward Carson, placing a hand on his elbow and whispering something playfully, and Carson looked at her a bit uncomfortably. At first glance, Nancy thought that Esther had been trying to flirt with her dad, but decided that she had been mistaken. Why would a college student want to flirt with an adult?

Finally the green knight won. He rode around the arena on his horse, passing flowers to the young maidens. Frank flagged him down and pointed to Callie. The green knight threw the flower to Frank instead, and Frank whispered something in Callie's ear and gave her the flower. Callie nodded, took the flower, and Frank and Callie kissed.

"We're all leaving in twenty minutes so we can drive home mostly in daylight," Carson shouted to their group in the lobby when the show was over. "If you want the bathroom, the gift shop, or pictures, now is the time."

"So we should all go in the torture chamber," Biff declared. He arched an eyebrow in challenge at Vanessa. "Whoever's not scared, that is."

Iola shrieked as Joe chased her inside the Torture Chamber Museum, a short hallway with descriptions and wax figures demonstrating horrible punishments of the middle ages. The teens began to flock inside, giggling, the guys pretending to drag the girls while the girls pretended to resist.

"Mary can stay with me," Esther said, taking the five-year-old's hand and heading toward the gift shop.

Carson gestured toward Nancy. She walked over to him.

"Don't go in there. You'll have nightmares. It's rated PG-13," Carson said.

"I'll scope out for the scene for her, Mr. Drew," Tony said solemnly. "We're here to celebrate Nancy's English heritage, so I'll be her knight and let her know if it's unfit for her innocent eyes." Tony disappeared inside the Torture Chamber Museum and re-appeared a moment later. "Nancy!" he called out to her. "Don't come in here! You'll get nightmares!" Then he went back inside.

Carson looked relieved. "I'm glad that your male companion isn't putting pressure on you, Nancy."

"Carson," Griselda said gently. "You need to say it, honey. You're strong enough now."

Carson appeared decidedly miserable. "No," he whined.

"You can do it, Dad," Nancy encouraged. "Just put a little pause in it and act like it's two words. Boy. Friend."

For a moment Carson looked like he was going to throw up. Then he licked his lips and choked it out. "Tony is my daughter's friend who is a boy…"

"Carson," Griselda warned.

"Which makes him her boy…friend."

Griselda smiled and rewarded him with kisses. "I'm sorry, but the pain isn't over, love," she said. "How old is Nancy?"

"Twelve," Carson muttered impetuously.

"No. She is fourteen," Griselda corrected. "And what does PG-13 mean?"

Carson did not look happy. "All right, you're allowed to go inside," he said to Nancy, sounding defeated. "But I wish you'd think hard about it."

"Dad," Nancy said, smiling at him, "I have no desire to go inside the torture museum. It really would give me nightmares. But thank you very much for giving me permission."

"And your dad has one more present that he's giving you, in honor of my birthday," Griselda told her. "And, believe it or not, it was his idea."

"If I can't get you to give up on this dangerous detective idea, at least I can show you how valuable lawyers are too in bringing about justice," Carson explained to Nancy. "I'm going to print out a transcript of a case that was recently settled at work. You can read the transcript and we'll talk about how the culprit was convicted and each step of the legal process along the way. I have to warn you, though, Nancy, that there are an awful lot of naughty words in the transcript."

"Oh, no, Dad. I might go blind as I read the naughty words," Nancy said gravely. "Then again, I don't even know which words are naughty because you and I both know that I've never heard any naughty words in my entire life. You'll have to highlight them for me."

"Sass," Carson growled good-naturedly as Nancy jumped up and down with excitement. Carson put his hands on both of her shoulders once she'd gotten her anticipatory energy out. "If I squeeze your shoulders together, do you think you'll shrink and become a little girl again?" Carson said wistfully.

"I don't think so, Dad. But I'm sure that won't stop you from trying." Nancy briefly closed her eyes and scrunched her face like she were bracing for impact. She heard laughing and then felt herself pulled into a tight group hug with both of her parents.

Only a couple of seconds went by before Griselda spoke. "There's something in the gift shop that I want you to buy me, Carson."

"But…Esther is in the gift shop," Carson pointed out as Griselda began to pull on his arm.

"I'm giving you official orders to flirt with her. We don't want her turning her attention to any of the boys," Griselda said as they walked away.

Nancy turned around. Frank was standing in front of her with a small paper bag. The crowd in the lobby was thinning, as the staff was beginning to strongly encourage the afternoon show crowd to leave and make room for the evening show crowd.

Frank smiled at Nancy. "My mom loved your essay," he said. "And she wanted me to tell you to go ahead and pick up the last book from the library. But, even though this party is for Griselda's birthday, none of us would have been invited here if we weren't friends with you, so I used my allowance to buy it for you."

Nancy knew exactly what it was but still eagerly took the bag from him, pulling out the book. "Mansfield Park!" she said happily. "The last of Jane Austen's major works. This is so thoughtful of you, Frank."

"It's just a tiny bit creased," Frank confessed. "I read it just to see what all the fuss was about. It's pretty good, and I understand why my mom thinks you're ready for it. It's about a girl who's tossed here and there, moved all around to different houses and locations and family members, and yet she comes out on top. She takes an active role and figures out who she is and where she belongs."

Nancy was quite pleased that Mrs. Hardy thought that she had grown enough to receive this final lesson. "But the romance!" she blurted out. "Does the main character end up with the correct man in the end?"

Frank gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. "I suppose that depends on the reader's interpretation of who the correct man is for that particular main character."

Nancy looked at him fondly. "And do you have any news? Did _you_ end up with the correct female character?"

"Time will tell," Frank said, but his eyes were twinkling. "Tony really is correct that you're a little monkey sometimes, Nancy, seeing everything and hearing everything. Yes, I asked Callie to be my girlfriend during the show, and she said yes."

Nancy smiled, happy to see him happy. "Congratulations, Frank." She saw Vanessa and Iola emerge from the Torture Chamber Museum and head toward the bathrooms; she knew she didn't have much time. "And, now that we're both in committed relationships…and we kind of helped each other get with our partners and stay with our partners, now that I think about it…can you just tell me if you _ever_ thought of me as more than a friend? Just so I don't die of suspense?"

"Yes, I did," Frank answered. "For about three hours."

Nancy raised her eyebrows, unsure how to process this information.

"I've adored Callie for absolutely forever," Frank said with an exhale, "and I hated myself for it. What are the odds that I would like the only girl in town that seemed to hold me in utter contempt? And so, this past summer, I decided that I wasn't going to wait any longer for her. I showed up at the Scouts retreat early to help set up, and Phil showed me that novel that you wrote about me…I wasn't going to ask you out immediately or anything, but I decided that I would open myself up to the possibility and just see where things went. It turned out, though, that you'd taken my advice and talked to Tony after karate, so you smacked me back into the friend zone when I walked you girls home after curfew."

Nancy grinned. "Oh, my god. The little choices, the little circumstances that make all the difference in our lives."

"I think we're both happy, though, and we'll just have to live with _that_ suspense," Frank told her with a wink. "Did Joe give you the same speech that he gave me? That you and I shouldn't be alone together, especially on stressful cases, because we might make out?"

Nancy giggled. "Yes! He's so funny. That would never happen. It's sweet that he's trying to look out for us, though."

"I know. He can be a little dramatic sometimes." Frank frowned and looked toward the exit of the Torture Chamber Museum. Callie had exited, looking a bit queasy. "I need to check on my girlfriend," he said hurriedly. "But really quick, Nancy. Callie said that I was allowed to ask you. I, um…I might have accidentally read your essay…it reminded me of how much I like your writing style and I was wondering maybe if there's any chance that one day your hotheaded boyfriend would let you write another story where I'm in it?" He corrected himself. "Where _all of us_ are characters in it?"

"The plot bunnies aren't hopping for me right now, and I will definitely be in big trouble if I don't focus on Tony's birthday story for the next few months," Nancy told him, but began to feel excited by the possibilities. "The best thing you can do on your end is solve a ton of mysteries with Joe to give me inspiration. And then I'm going to write books about the mysteries I solve, the mysteries you guys solve, and the mysteries that the three of us solve together, hundreds of books, _bestselling_ books! Everything's better when it's bestselling."

Frank made a gesture like he was about to pull Nancy in for a one-armed hug, then looked over her shoulder and changed the gesture to a high five. He walked quickly over to Callie while Nancy turned around to see what had caught his attention.

Tony held a Sprite and a red-and-yellow flag souvenir. Nancy thought he looked adorably handsome. "So my lady doesn't get thirsty on the way home," he said gallantly. "And so she always remembers that the red-and-yellow knight was the real winner, even though…he wasn't, or something."

Nancy squeaked in euphoria and accepted her presents. "You're fully _English_, just for today! Every year, we'll spend 364 days honoring Italy, and one day honoring England. I love my presents, _paeson_."

"Just your presents?" Tony quipped. Then it seemed like he realized the implications of what he'd said at the same time that Nancy did. "I didn't mean—" he said hurriedly.

"Well, I mean, I told Griselda that I love her, so—" Nancy said clumsily.

Tony's breath caught. He looked at her wide-eyed.

Nancy began again. "I meant to say," she said, "that I love having you in my life. And I love my new friends and all the things I have to look forward to. And I really, really love that you and I got together at the beginning of high school, because it means we have so much time to enjoy each other and take things slowly and make sure that when we make big decisions, they're really special."

Tony smiled at her. "And I love how much you love all those things, Nancy Drew." He pulled her in for a kiss.

_A/N: A big thank you to EvergreenDreamweaver, al, sm2003495, angelicalkiss, Jenni, Rose12, ErinJordan, Cherylann Rivers, and katnissta for the reviews on the previous chapter! There will be a short epilogue coming soon._


	26. Chapter 26

Epilogue

Nancy burst through her front door at 9:30 the following Wednesday night, giddy and excited. She was happy to see her dad and Griselda at the kitchen table, holding hands; she very much wanted to describe her experiences to fresh ears, like a verbal diary entry. Griselda looked at the table. Her dad slowly turned, but his eyes didn't seem entirely focused on her.

"My day was _perfect_!" she gushed, clutching her new book to her chest. "Thank you so much for letting me take the day off school to help Mrs. Hardy with her book signing. There wasn't a mob of thousands of people there, like I thought there'd be, and they didn't have much for me to do, but it was very thrilling to sit at the table next to her like an apprentice. And she gave me a signed copy for free! And then Michael, Polly, and Tony picked me up from the bookstore right on time for our double date, and it was so much fun for the four of us to go out to dinner like adults, and then the Talent Show at UConn was so funny! It wasn't about talent as much as…naughty jokes…and I'm going to go upstairs and start reading my book right away. I'm sad that today is over, but it's okay, because I feel like I also have so many things to look forward to—"

Griselda's shoulders trembled slightly. Nancy stopped speaking and slowly walked closer to the table, suddenly aware of her parents' strange moods. She realized that her stepmother was trying not to cry.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. Then, in alarm, "Oh, no, is someone hurt?"

"No, no one's hurt, honey," her dad reassured her, but he seemed worried and upset. "We're glad you had a nice time. Go upstairs and enjoy your book. We'll talk another day."

"No! That's not fair," Nancy said, taking a seat and putting her book on the table. "Now I need to know what happened."

Carson glanced at Griselda, but, for once, her stepmother didn't help him with a decision or mediate between them. Carson sighed and focused on Nancy once more.

"You're going to be a big sister, Nancy," Carson said. He tried to smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Nancy froze, processing the information, and then her eyes lit up in happiness. "Yay! So you're crying happy tears. There will be a lot of changes, but this is so fun. We'll be a family of four!" She wondered why her parents still didn't look very cheerful about the news.

"Honey," Carson said, swallowing, "We're happy about the baby, we're just a little concerned because Griselda has some health problems. Nothing that you need to worry about, though. We didn't think that she was able to get pregnant, but the doctor confirmed it today and told us to…prepare…and all we know for sure is that this is going to be a very difficult pregnancy for Griselda. She's going to quit her job, which means that my salary is going to have to support all of us, which would be difficult with Bayport's high cost of loving. Griselda is going to need me, so I can't keep working sixty stressful hours a week, either."

Nancy's breathing stilled. "So what does that mean? Will you get a new job?"

Carson looked guilty. "I'm saying that my old firm offered to take me back for my previous salary, forty-hour workweeks, and generous time off benefits. And fortunately our house in River Heights never sold." He squeezed her shoulder and finished, with a forced note of optimism, "So you'll be with Bess and George again, honey. You girls must have missed each other so much."

Griselda finally looked at her. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you again, Nancy," she said hoarsely.

Nancy burst into tears.

Ndhb

**1/29/19**

**Dear Tony:**

**Are you getting a thrill out of this snail-mail letter I'm sending you?! I know I always enjoy getting handwritten letters so I hope this makes you smile!**

**The Gruens made their final decision that Hannah is too "frail" to move back with us, which makes me very sad. But it's nice to have Griselda there when I get home from school. She seems weak and distracted and moves around less and less, but she caught up on all the Jane Austen books so we could talk about them. We're working through the Bront****ë**** sisters now. And we found out that I'm having a little sister! I finally understand something Mr. Hardy said a few months ago, that he was glad to pass a mystery off to someone else…I'm a little bit grateful that my dad and Griselda don't tell me everything that's going on with the baby. They pulled into the driveway after a doctor's appointment yesterday and my dad was crying. I've never seen him cry before and I don't ever want to see it again.**

**It's great to hear that Michael is enjoying his two new college classes. I wonder if Michael's real hang-up with college was just that he wanted it to be his own decision, not your mom's.**

**I'm sorry that the Patriots are in the Superbowl again. I'm sure they won't win. That's awesome that you guys decided to all try out together for baseball in the spring! You said that Vanessa will take my place babysitting Mary Hooper when Biff is at practice? That means that she and Biff will be seeing a lot of each other. I wonder…**

**Glad that Joe is still continuing with karate classes without me. I can't believe Frank and Callie got caught making out under the gym bleachers and have to do more community service! Remember when you and I had to do those three extra days for ditching and taking Mrs. Scott's vests with us? Only seven more months until you guys will all be helping the Hardy boys with their dad's cases…I'm so jealous that I won't be there, but they promised to call me for case consultation, and they also promised that they and I will work together when we're all adults. My dad is still teaching me things in the meantime.**

**Quit asking me for spoilers about your birthday novel! I told you a million times: the character of Antonio Prito is a warrior chief who saves his tribal village from catastrophe, swinging on vines in the jungle, loin cloth flapping in the breeze. I'm trying to use the plotting techniques that Mrs. Hardy is teaching me via email. By the way, my most recent assignment from her was a "descriptive essay about a day in my life when I was very happy," so I wrote about the day we made out by the Tower Mansion. I'd thought that she wouldn't be able to figure out what I was talking about since I didn't say exactly what we did, just used a lot of "similes" and "metaphors," but she asked me to keep my assignments G rated from now on so I suppose I should keep those memories between us (and Bess and George).**

**I'm happy for Phil that he's doing so well at Space Camp, and I'm relieved to hear that Iola doesn't seem to regret her decision for the two of them to take a break while he's away. If this is the real deal for them, they'll just get back together again in the summer, right? But I'm glad that you and I decided to make it work long-distance, even with how much it already sucks. My three months in Bayport already seem like a dream, a long vacation, except for the relationships I made and all the lessons I learned. Bess really wants to meet you sometime, but every time I think she's finished developing, she develops some more, so she will have to get prior approval from me for the outfits she's going to wear. And it's probably going to be a very long time before we can see each other again because Griselda isn't due until July and who knows what kind of special care she and my sister will need after then too. And I worry about what might happen to Hannah. Can you please light a candle that her health won't get any worse?**

**Everybody keeps warning me that I shouldn't be too heartbroken if you and I lose contact since we're both young and didn't know each other for very long. But of course we will never lose contact. I love your calls and emails, but it's weird how they hurt a little bit too, because they just make me want to see you in person all the more. I'm sorry that we haven't been talking as much as we used to, but it's only because of everything that's going on here. When everything settles down, we'll start talking every day again. It's only three and a half more years, and then maybe we can go to college together! A few years will fly by since we know that we are meant to be, and we'll beat the odds and prove everyone wrong and be together forever.**

**Right, Tony?**

**xoxo,**

**Nancy**

**~Finis~**

_A/N: I can't believe I wrote 226 pages of teen drama and had such a blast doing so._

_This story was intended to be a Prequel to the published books: how Nancy met Frank and Joe; their attempt at a first mystery; and the attraction/connection between Frank and Nancy that will eventually lead to the two Supermystery makeouts. Therefore, romantically, Joe will soon begin to date Iola (thanks, Space Camp), and later Vanessa; Frank will continue to date Callie (Cherylann, I hope you appreciate this…my fingers hurt to type that!); and Nancy will meet Ned when she's older. Alas, I don't see a ninth-grade relationship lasting long-distance for years. The Nancy and Tony storyline was originally intended to only be a two or three chapter interlude in which Nancy learns her matchmaking lesson from __Emma__ to fit that book into the Jane Austen "life lessons" theme…and then, after that first arcade/pizza date, Nancy and Tony refused to break up. Many thanks to my own Italian Stallion, my boyfriend Al, for providing cultural/linguistic consultation. _

_If this series ever continues on, I might shamelessly delete this optional epilogue or, more likely, age the characters into their twenties as a Sequel to the published books. Canon is only a springboard._

_Words fail me to adequately express how grateful I am for every read and review, and especially to those most generous reviewers who have stuck with this Non-Bestselling Novel from the beginning to the end: xcherryxlipsx, katnissta, sm2003495, angelicalkiss, max2003, Cherylann Rivers, EvergreenDreamweaver, anonymous reviewers, and Rose12, ErinJordan, and ChrisCorso joining halfway through. Two chapter updates a week is a significant time commitment, plus I was afraid of losing a lot of reviewers when Nancy got together with Tony, so I'm constantly blown away by how supportive this fandom is. All of you will get PMs soon. If there are any lurking readers, I would love a review or PM on your overall thoughts about the story._

_Thank you, thank you, thank you for enjoying these characters with me for the past three months. Hope everyone has a terrific rest of the summer. Until next time…? JB_


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